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FORTY    YEARS     OF    A 
SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 


A    SELECTION    FROM 

MILLS  &  BOON'S 

LIST    OF    GENERAL    LITERATURE 


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L9/au^c^  ~^Ai(^^^riA^^/i^(^/^  '^yteJ^/-a^97yy^ 


FORTY    YEARS   OF  A 
SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 


SIR  CLAUDE  CHAMPION  DE  CRESPIGNY 

BART. 


ILLUSTRATED 


MILLS   &   BOON,   LIMITED 

49   RUPERT    STREET 

LONDON.   W 


V/tTAj 


Published  1910 


PREFACE 

Some  fourteen  years  ago  I  pubHshed  a  volume  of 
memoirs,  in  the  compiling  of  which  I  had  the  kind 
assistance  of  the  Duke  of  Beaufort  and  Mr.  G.  A.  B. 
Dewar.  It  having  been  suggested  to  me  that  I 
have  run  through  a  good  many  experiences  since 
then,  I  have  been  tempted  to  venture  into  print 
once  more,  and  the  result  is  the  present  volume. 
A  portion  of  the  former  book,  which  deals  with  my 
earlier  experiences,  has  naturally  been  retained, 
but,  with  the  assistance  of  Mr.  Harold  Simpson,  it 
has  been  thoroughly  revised  and  brought  up  to 
date,  and  I  have  added  another  fourteen  years  of 
sport  and  adventure  by  land,  sea,  and  air.  If  any 
apology  is  needed,  I  offer  it  here. 

C.  DE  C. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER    I 

PiQE 

My  Sporting  Career  begins         ....        1 


CHAPTER    II 

Sport  and  Sportsmen 30 

CHAPTER    III 
Fox-hunting  and  other  Delights       ...      59 

CHAPTER    IV 
Mostly  Steeplechasing 82 

CHAPTER    V 
Some  Ballooning  Experiences     .        .        .        .122 

CHAPTER    VI 

More  Steeplechasing 160 

vii 


viii  CONTENTS 


CHAPTER    VII 

PAGE 

A  Tmr  to  Florida 185 


CHAPTER    VIII 

To  Egypt  and  Back  again 214 

CHAPTER    IX 

More  Sport  in  Spain 241 

CHAPTER    X 
The  Boer  War 256 

CHAPTER    XI 
Fighting  and  Sport  in  East  Africa    .        .        .276 

CHAPTER    XII 

Racing  by  Land  and  Air 306 


FORTY  YEARS  OF  A 
SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

CHAPTER   I 

MY   SPORTING   CAREER  BEGINS 

THOUGH  my  early  sailoring  days  can  perhaps 
hardly  be  said  to  be  part  and  parcel  of  my 
*'  forty  years  "  of  life  as  a  sportsman,  I  should  like 
to  record  the  fact  that  I  did  actually  begin  my  career 
in  the  Navy  ;  and  there  are  a  few  incidents  in  con- 
nection with  those  times  which  may  not  be  without 
interest  to  the  rising  generation  of  sailors. 

My  first  ship  was  the  now  obsolete  Warrior.  I 
went  on  board  her  in  1862,  when  she  made  her  first 
trip  across  the  Bay  of  Biscay,  and  it  is  worthy  of 
mention  that  she  was  the  first  ironclad  that  ever 
went  to  sea.  Cochrane  was  the  captain  of  the  ship, 
and  Tryon,  whose  tragic  but  splendid  end  on  the 
Victoria  must  long  remain  fresh  in  the  pubhc  memory, 
the  commander.  Even  at  that  early  period  in  his 
career  Tryon  was  thought  very  highly  of,  and  marked 
out  for  certain  and  speedy  promotion. 

From  the  Warrior  I  was  presently  transferred  to 
the  Edgar,  a  two-decker,  carrying  the  flag  of  Admiral 

1 


2    FOETY  YEAES  OF  A  SPOETSMAN'S  LIFE 

Sir  S.  C.  Dacres.  We  hung  awhile  about  the  West 
Indies,  then  on  to  Halifax,  avoiding  Bermuda  as  we 
had  yellow  fever  on  board. 

Whilst  cruising  about  the  North  American  station, 
our  headquarters  being  Halifax,  we  saw  a  little,  and 
heard  more,  of  blockaders  and  blockade  runners. 
There  were  some  smart  devices  practised  on  more 
than  one  occasion  by  the  runners  in  order  to  get  their 
cargoes  in.  One  of  the  cleverest  tricks  I  can  recollect 
took  place  at  Charlestown  Harbour.  A  little  runner 
wanted  to  unload  the  cargo,  composed  of  quinine, 
etc.,  she  had  on  board.  To  do  this  she  would  have 
to  pass  a  line  of  watchful  blockaders,  an  apparently 
impossible  task.  One  of  the  blockaders  on  her  star- 
board bow,  suspecting  mischief,  showed  a  red  light, 
and  the  runner  at  once  popped  a  shot  into  the  same. 
At  the  same  time  the  blockader  on  her  port  bow 
showed  a  blue  hght.  She  treated  that  in  the  same 
style,  and  then  steamed  between  the  two  blockaders, 
leaving  them  firing  at  one  another. 

At  another  time  a  runner  was  desperately  anxious 
to  pass  a  blockader  at,  I  think,  Saint  Thomas's. 
Now  the  blockader  was  not  able  to  tackle  the  runner 
in  the  harbour,  as  it  was  under  British  protection ; 
but  directly  the  runner  moved  the  blockader  would 
of  course  pursue,  and  presently  attack  her.  The 
captain  of  the  runner,  being  in  these  difficult  straits, 
asked  the  captain  of  one  of  our  ships  what  he  had 
better  do  to  evade  the  blockader.  The  advice  was  to 
burn  some  damp  hay  which  was  on  board  the  runner, 
and  so  pretend  to  be  getting  up  steam  for  a  start. 
This  was  done,  and  the  blockader  promptly  began 
to  burn  coal.     Presently  her  supphes  ran  short,  and 


MY   SPORTING   CAREER   BEGINS         3 

she  had  to  send  a  boat  ashore  to  get  some  more. 
Instantly  the  runner  departed  on  her  way,  rejoicing 
at  this  completely  successful  ruse.  The  blockader 
gave  chase,  but  had  to  stop  steaming  before  she  was 
hull  down. 

The  Northerners  were  very  eager  to  receive  efficient 
seamen  gunners,  and  not  a  little  difficulty  was  experi- 
enced in  keeping  our  men  from  deserting,  as  the  pay 
and  bonus  offered  were  most  tempting.  A  good 
many  men  did  succeed  in  getting  away  and  joining 
the  American  naval  force. 

I  allowed  my  men  occasionally  to  go  ashore,  on 
the  understanding  that  they  would  not  overstay 
the  short  time  allowed  them,  and  would  refrain 
from  taking  a  glass  too  much.  Once  one  of  them 
came  back  obviously  the  worse  for  drink.  I  pointed 
out  that  he  would  be  the  means  of  getting  me  into 
trouble.  The  other  men  were  furious  at  his  conduct, 
and  asked  to  be  allowed  to  settle  him  themselves. 
I  never  inquired  what  course  they  took,  but  had  a 
very  shrewd  suspicion  that  he  got  something  like 
four  dozen. 

The  late  King  Edward,  then  Prince  of  Wales,  had 
a  narrow  escape  of  being  killed  when  he  came  on 
board  the  Sultan,  on  which  ship  I  was  at  that  time 
a  visitor,  to  lunch,  and  to  see  afterwards  the  working 
of  a  new  gun. 

With  one  or  two  other  people  I  was  standing  by, 
a  spectator  of  the  incident.  The  Prince  had  been 
watching  the  working  of  the  gun,  and  just  as  he 
turned  round  to  ask  some  question  of  Captain  Van- 
sittart  concerning  the  cost  of  each  discharge,  the 
windlass  took  charge,  and  the  handle  flying  round 


4    FOKTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

with  frightful  velocity  only  just  missed  his  Royal 
Highness's  head.  If  he  had  been  a  foot  nearer  it 
is  not  conceivable  that  he  could  have  escaped.  He 
must  have  been  killed  on  the  spot. 

This  took  place  in  Portland  Harbour.  There  was 
a  very  nasty  sea  on  at  the  time  ;  but  it  did  not  deter 
the  Prince  from  going  the  round  of  several  other 
vessels  lying  near  by.  He  was  anxious  not  to  hurt 
the  feelings  of  the  other  officers,  and  so  put  himself 
to  this  considerable  discomfort.  Verily  the  lines  of 
royalty  are  not  always  laid  in  pleasant  places. 

I  recollect  meeting  Lord  Charles  Beresford  on  this 
occasion  on  board  the  Sultan.  When  he  saw  me  he 
cried  out,  what  was  I  doing  there  ?  He  thought 
I  had  left  the  Navy  for  good.  I  told  him  I  had 
joined  the  Sultan  in  the  capacity  of  Chaplain  and 
Naval  Instructor.  "  Good  Lord  !  "  exclaimed  Charley, 
who  is  always  ready  with  a  reply,  "  why  didn't  you 
join  as  Ship's  Cook  ?  You'd  at  any  rate  have  got 
more  to  eat  that  way." 

Charley  Beresford,  though  full  of  good  nature,  is 
bad  to  rub  up  the  wrong  way.  Once  he  was  driving 
a  drag  with  several  ladies  in  it  home  from  some  races 
— I  forget  where.  Two  or  three  offensive  fellows  in 
a  dog-cart  shot  peas  at  the  ladies.  Charley  bided  his 
time.  Presently  it  came.  He  managed  very  skil- 
fully to  lock  the  wheel  of  his  coach  in  that  of  the 
dog-cart.  Then,  sublimely  regardless  of  remon- 
strances, he  bore  doggedly  to  the  right  till  the  dog- 
cart was  precipitated  with  its  occupants  into  a  deep 
ditch.  Charley  drove  on  as  though  nothing  had 
happened. 

Beresford  and  myself,  I  may  explain,  had  been 


MY   SPORTING   CAREER    BEGINS         5 

fellow  cadets  a  good  few  years  before  this  incident. 
We  were  on  the  training  ship  Britannia  together  in 
the  beginning  of  the  Sixties.  I  cannot  say  that  in 
those  days  our  now  perhaps  foremost  and  certainly 
widely  popular  sailor  gave  any  clear  indications  of 
the  greatness  which  he  was  to  attain  to  by-and-by. 
But  I  do  recollect  that  he  was  then,  as  always,  a 
spirited  and  plucky  fellow.  Like  Marcus,  and  myself 
too,  I  rather  fancy  he  has  been  in — well,  in  two  or 
three  "  mills  "  since  those  days  ! 

It  is  over  forty  years  since  I  rode  and  won  my 
first  steeplechase. 

Looking  back  across  the  vista  of  years,  I  really 
begin  to  think  that  I  must  be  getting  an  old  fogey. 
The  fingers  of  one  hand  are  more  than  enough  to 
reckon  up  the  cross-country  men,  amateur  and 
professional,  who  were  riding  with  me  then  and  who  are 
riding  now.  Nor  is  this  astonishing  when  one  con- 
siders that  the  steeplechasing  careers  of  most  men 
are  compressed  into  about  half  a  dozen  years.  Few 
jockeys,  at  any  rate,  either  on  the  flat  or  across 
country,  beginning  like  myself  at  twenty,  have  ridden 
after  their  fortieth  year ;  and  fewer  still  looked 
forward  in  their  sixty-fourth  year  to  riding  and 
winning  a  few  more  good  races  on  any  mount  and 
over  any  course  within  the  next  two  or  three  seasons. 
Though  often  taking  exception  to  my  luck  in  various 
matters,  I  must  say  that  the  fates  have  been  very 
lenient  to  me  in  regard  to  steeplechasing.  Only  I 
wish  I  had  not  been  denied  winning  the  Grand 
National.  Once  or  twice  I  have  seemed  within 
measurable  distance  of  success,  and  each  time  have 
been  foiled  through  an  unexpected  mishap. 


6    FOKTY  YEAES  OF  A  SPOETS]\iAN'S  LIFE 

Perhaps  the  first  thing  which  it  occurs  to  any  man 
at  all  conversant  with  horse-racing  to  ask,  when  he 
hears  that  you  have  been  riding  for  getting  on  to- 
wards half  a  century,  is  "  How  on  earth  have  you 
done  it  ? ''  The  question  has  been  put  to  me  many 
scores  of  times  within  the  last  few  years.  People  who 
are  acquainted  with  my  racing  career  are  sometimes 
more  puzzled  at  the  way  in  which  I  have  continued 
to  ride  than  those  who  know  little  about  the  noble 
sport  of  steeplechasing.  They  know  that  I  accept 
mounts  which  I  may  never  have  seen  or  heard  of 
before,  and  often  at  the  shortest  notice  ;  and  also 
that  I  am  willing,  as  a  rule,  to  ride  in  all  weathers. 
That  any  man  can  keep  up  this  kind  of  thing  for 
nearly  half  a  century  seems  scarcely  credible  even 
to  those  who  are  perfectly  aware  that  it  is  being 
done. 

I  attribute  my  success  in  being  able  to  ride  for 
such  a  great  length  of  time  without  getting  knocked 
up,  almost  entirely  to  the  fact  that  I  have  always 
kept  myself  at  all  seasons  of  the  year  in  condition. 

By  constantly  keeping  myself  in  training,  and 
"  hard  as  nails,"  I  have  been  enabled  not  only  to 
ride  into  my  sixty-fourth  year,  but  also  to  shake  off 
the  effects  of  ugly-looking  mishaps  in  what  has  ap- 
peared a  phenomenally  short  time.  In  ballooning 
accidents  too  I  have  found  the  same  thing  obtains. 
An  ordinary  accident  on  the  racecourse  or  elsewhere 
is  to  my  mind  serious  or  the  reverse  in  proportion 
as  the  body  is  in  perfect  condition  or  otherwise. 

How  many  more  lives  a  jockey  may  be  expected 
to  have  than  a  man  out  of  training  seemed  to  me 
admirably  expressed  by  a  doctor  on  a  racecourse  not 


MY   SPOETING   CAREER   BEGINS         7 

long  since.  He  had  been  attending  a  rider  who  had 
just  had  a  nasty-looking  spill.  Said  a  spectator, 
"  I  suppose  he  will  die  ?  "  "  Oh  dear,  no,"  was  the 
reply  ;  "  he's  a  jockey." 

My  first  steeplechase  was  the  South  of  Ireland 
Mihtary  in  the  spring  of  1867.  I  was  serving  at  the 
time  with  my  regiment,  the  60th,  which  was  quartered 
in  the  south  of  Ireland,  and  helping  to  suppress  the 
Fenian  outbreak.  These  steeplechases  were  organ- 
ized by  the  12th  Lancers,  then  commanded  by  that 
famous  old  soldier  Colonel  Oakes,  and  a  rather  droll 
incident  in  connection  with  them  is  worth  recalling. 
I  was  walking  with  one  of  the  officers  of  the  12th 
shortly  before  the  day  of  the  steeplechasing,  when 
a  man  came  up  and  thanked  us  for  the  pleasure 
which  he  had  derived  from  seeing  the  horses  run. 
"  A  capital  day's  sport,"  was  his  verdict.  My  com- 
panion was  mystified.  The  steeplechasing,  he 
objected,  had  not  yet  taken  place.  It  then  tran- 
spired that  the  regimental  grooms  and  servants  had 
taken  all  the  horses  of  the  12th  out  on  the  preceding 
day,  and  tried  them  over  the  course  at  the  distances 
they  would  have  to  run,  and  at  the  weights  they 
would  have  to  carry — a  bit  of  enterprise  which  has 
probably  never  been  ecKpsed  by  those  who  lay 
themselves  out  to  make  money  by  backing  horses. 
I  don't  know  whether  the  bookmakers  got  wind  of 
this  extraordinary  proceeding  ;  if  they  didn't,  it  is 
at  least  conceivable  that  they  had  rather  a  bad  time 
when  the  actual  steeplechasing  came  ofi  ! 

The  race,  however,  in  which  I  had  a  mount,  and 
enjoyed  my  first  triumph,  could  not  have  been  gauged 
by  the  regimental  grooms  as  nicely  as  one  or  two  of 


8    FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

the  others.  My  mount — Maid  of  the  Mist — was  not 
available  for  these  trials,  as  I  was  looking  after  her 
myself.  Maid  of  the  Mist,  so  called  because  she 
was  one  of  three  up  in  a  celebrated  run  in  Leicester- 
shire on  a  misty  day,  belonged  to  Major  Watts 
Russell.  I  was  my  own  trainer,  as  I  have  often  been 
since,  and  the  day  before  the  race  went  carefully 
over  the  course.  To  neglect  this  precaution  is  to 
show  oneself  deficient  in  the  A  B  C  of  riding,  whether 
on  the  flat  or  across  country.  George  Fordham 
used  to  attach  the  greatest  importance  to  it,  and 
so  do  many  other  leading  jockeys  of  the  present  time. 
It  is  scarcely  too  much  to  say,  that  a  rider  who 
thoroughly  knows  his  course  enjoys  as  great  an 
advantage  over  those  who  are  ignorant  of  it,  as  does 
a  billiard-player  who  knows  the  table  when  pitted 
against  one  who  has  never  played  a  hundred  up  on 
it  before.  A  jockey  should  endeavour  to  sound  his 
course,  and  find  out  its  strong  and  weak  spots,  as  a 
careful  batsman  or  bowler  does  his  pitch.  In  some 
of  the  rougher  and  more  rotten  courses  I  have  spent 
many  an  hour  in  searching  for  a  sheep-track,  and 
where  the  search  has  been  successful,  have  been 
materially  assisted  by  sticking  to  it  as  much  as 
possible  during  the  race.  "  A  Mad  Rider "  is  the 
title  with  which  I  have  been  honoured  many  and 
many  a  time.  Possibly,  if  the  title  be  deserved, 
in  this  habit  of  carefully  examining  my  ground  lies 
the  method  of  my  madness.  It  may  be  added,  that 
in  flat  racing  also  it  is  desirable  to  avoid  rotten 
places,  and  this  can  only  be  done  by  examining  the 
course  very  carefully  before  the  race. 
Maid  of  the  Mist  started  about  a  hundred  to  one 


'  BAY  "    MIDDLETON. 
{From  "  Vanity  Fair.") 


MY   SPORTING   CAREER   BEGINS         9 

against,  so  that  my  first  mount  was  a  decidedly 
*'  dark  horse."  It  was  not  thought  that  she  would 
negotiate  the  stone  walls,  to  which  she  was  strange, 
and  moreover,  there  was  no  particular  reason  to  feel 
great  confidence  in  her  rider.  But  I  knew  my  ground 
and  my  mount,  and  so  started  with  high  hopes.  My 
most  dangerous  opponent  was  none  other  than 
"  Bay  "  Middleton,  whose  death  some  years  back 
was  the  cause  of  such  sincere  regret  to  a  wide  circle 
of  friends  and  admirers.  "  Bay "  made  a  fatal 
mistake  in  the  race,  which  I  pointed  out  to  him  after- 
wards. He  took  it  out  of  his  horse  over  a  bit  of 
nasty  boggy  ground.  Noting  this,  I  let  him  forge 
twenty  or  perhaps  thirty  lengths  ahead  till  the  swamp 
was  passed  :  then  overtook  him,  and  won  by  a 
length.  Very  few  people  can  say  that  they  ever 
beat  "  Bay  "  Middleton  through  any  blunder  of  his 
in  horsemanship.  As  all  the  world  knows,  he  was 
one  of  the  most  accomplished  horsemen  of  his  day, 
specially  excelling  perhaps  in  the  hunting-field. 

"  Bay "  was  a  man  who  rarely  threw  away  a 
race  through  carelessness.  I  recollect  an  amusing 
*'  squeak  "  which  occurred  early  in  his  racing  career, 
and  which  may  have  proved  of  after-service  to  him. 
He  was  riding  on  a  course  near  Macroom,  when 
everything  connected  with  steeplechasing  was  of 
course  much  more  roughly  done  than  nowadays. 
The  carriage  from  which  we  were  watching  the  race 
was  drawn  up  by  a  post  some  little  distance  from 
the  judge's  box,  and  when  "  Bay  "  passed  us,  being 
then  about  three-quarters  of  a  length  to  the  good, 
he  stopped  riding,  and  Jack  Gubbins  went  on  per- 
severing to  the  winning-post  a  few  lengths  further 


10   FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

on,  but  couldn't  quite  get  up.  I  yelled  out  to  "  Bay  " 
to  go  on,  but  even  as  a  cornet  his  hearing  was  not 
over-good,  and  I  might  as  well  have  shouted  to  his 
brow-band.  After  he  had  weighed  in,  and  the  "  All 
right !  "  announced,  I  got  him  by  the  arm  and  said, 
"  Old  man,  you  drew  that  a  bit  fine  I  "  "  Not  a  bit 
of  it,"  replied  he  ;  "  why,  it  must  have  been  a  good 
three-quarter  length."  "  Where  did  you  finish  ?  " 
I  queried.  "  Why  there,  of  course,"  he  answered, 
pointing  to  where  he  had  stopped  riding.  "  I  know 
you  did,  but  do  you  see  what  it  is  ?  "  "  Oh,  by 
Jove  !  "  he  cried  out,  amazed  ;  "  why,  it's  a  tele- 
graph post !  " 

"  Bay  "  had  one  serious  fault  as  a  rider.  He 
almost  invariably  spurred  his  horse  in  the  shoulder, 
being  apparently  imable  to  sit  his  horse  without 
turning  his  toes  out.  He  ought  not  to  have  had  any 
rowels.  Many  people  must  have  noticed  the  con- 
dition of  some  of  his  mounts  after  a  hard  race  or  run, 
and  indeed  a  friend  once  remarked  to  me  of  a  horse 
that  had  been  spurred  in  this  manner  by  some  rider 
or  other,  that  it  looked  as  if  it  had  been  ridden  by 
"  Bay  "  Middleton. 

Watts  Russell  sold  Maid  of  the  Mist  after  this  win 
for  double  the  sum  he  had  paid  for  her  not  long 
before  the  race.  He  himself  lost  his  life  some  years 
afterwards  in  a  race  at  Cawnpore,  which  a  horse 
of  mine  named  Rockwood  won.  The  South  of  Ireland 
Military  is  the  only  steeplechase  in  which  I  have 
ever  ridden  in  the  distressful  country.  The  fact 
was,  we  were  in  the  midst  of  the  Fenian  rebellion, 
and  had  therefore  little  time  for  sport.  I  left  for 
India  moreover  shortly  afterwards  with  my  regiment. 


MY   SPORTING   CAREER   BEGINS        11 

Cawnpore  was  a  fatal  spot  for  poor  Watts  Russell. 
On  one  occasion  he  fell  in  a  steeplechase  there,  and 
had  concussion  of  the  brain,  which  compelled  him  to 
come  home  to  England  on  sick  leave.  Then  on 
another  occasion  he  dislocated  his  knee-cap  after  he 
had  returned  thither  from  England.  Finally,  riding 
far  sooner  than  he  ought  to  have  done  after  this 
accident,  he  met  by  his  death  on  the  same  course. 
His  horse  went  sideways,  he  had  no  strength  to  keep 
it  straight,  lost  all  control,  and  came  by  his  end.  I 
am  not  particularly  superstitious,  but  an  extra- 
ordinary fatality  does  seem  to  pursue  some  people 
in  connection  with  certain  places  and  times. 

I  have  referred  to  Colonel  Oakes  as  the  famous 
soldier  who  commanded  the  12th  in  those  days.  He 
made  it  the  smartest  of  cavalry  regiments,  though, 
curiously  enough,  he  himself  was  the  shabbiest  and 
most  slouching  of  officers.  There  never  was  a 
tougher  old  soldier  than  Oakes,  and  in  my  opinion 
he  was  far  and  away,  Baker  perhaps  excepted,  the 
best  cavalry  officer  of  his  day  ;  in  fact  one  is  some- 
times inclined  to  think  that  he  and  Baker  have  never 
been  equalled.  On  one  occasion  Oakes  incurred  the 
momentary  displeasure  of  an  illustrious  Duke,  who 
called  him  a  fool  (with  an  epithet  before  it)  on  parade. 
Afterwards  the  Duke  generously  withdrew  the  words. 
"  Oh,"  replied  Oakes,  "  I  don't  mind,  sir,  your 
calling  me  a  d — d  fool ;  only  I  don't  like  being  called 
a  d — d  fool  before  all  those  other  d — d  fools,"  point- 
ing to  the  Staff. 

At  another  time  the  same  soldier,  coming  to  see 
the  12th  Lancers  at  their  dinners,  found  them,  to 
his  great  surprise,  in  their  shirt-sleeves.     He  asked 


12   FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

for  an  explanation,  and  Oakes  replied,  "  You  didn't 
suppose,  sir,  I  was  going  to  tell  my  men  you  were 
coming  down  to-day  !  If  I  had  they  would  have 
been  in  a  shilly-shallying  funk,  and  would  have  de- 
voted their  time  to  their  accoutrements  instead  of 
their  horses.  Now,  sir,  you  see  us  as  we  are  every 
day  of  our  lives/' 

The  Fenians  were  for  the  most  part  cowardly 
brutes.  A  favourite  Fenian  method  of  attack  and 
defence  was  to  put  the  women  in  front  and  then 
fling  stones  at  the  military  over  their  heads.  But 
they  were  not  a  great  deal  more  cowardly  than  some 
of  the  magistrates  before  whom  they  were  dragged, 
often  enough  red-handed.  The  latter  were  afraid 
to  do  anything  in  cases  where  the  guilt  of  the  rebels 
was  perfectly  manifest.  In  one  instance  at  Macroom 
several  Fenians  came  out  of  court  smiling  trium- 
phantly over  their  acquittal.  Oakes  quite  by  him- 
self waited  outside.  The  escape  of  these  rebels 
would  have  exasperated  him  at  any  time,  but  their 
insolent  mien  was  altogether  too  much  for  the  old 
soldier.  So  he  assisted  each  of  them,  as  he  issued 
from  the  court,  with  a  good  kick,  growling  out, 
"  There's  something  for  you  to  remember  old  Oakes 
by !  " 

Oakes  was  a  rare  campaigner  :  no  sybarite  he. 
Once  he  growled  out  in  reply  to  the  question,  "  Have 
you  breakfasted  ?  "  "  Yes,  I've  had  my  three  pipes 
of  shag ;  that's  my  breakfast  to-day."  It  was 
smoking,  I  have  heard,  that  had  much  to  do  with 
his  fatal  illness. 

As  may  be  imagined,  my  short  but  sweet  experi- 
ence in  Ireland    greatly  whetted   my  appetite  for 


MY   SPORTING   CAREER   BEGINS        13 

steeplechasing,  and  upon  arrival  in  India  I  soon 
settled  down  to  ride  in  earnest.  Unfortunately  that 
"  eternal  want  of  pence,"  which,  according  to  the 
poet,  "  vexes  public  men,"  militated  a  good  deal 
against  me,  as  I  had  at  the  time  Httle  more  than 
my  bare  pay  as  an  ensign  in  the  Rifles.  Yet  I 
managed  by  hook  or  by  crook  to  get  a  good  many 
mounts,  and  to  win  a  fair  number  of  races.  I  never 
picked  and  chose,  but  rode  any  mortal  thing  that 
came  to  hand,  and  this  rule  I  have  followed  ever 
since. 

It  is  hard  to  revert  to  my  steeplechasing  experi- 
ences in  India  without  gleefully  calling  to  mind  two 
humorous  incidents  which  can  scarcely  fail  to  appeal 
to  people  who  attend  race-meetings  regularly  in 
England,  where  all  the  proceedings  are  transacted 
in  such  a  dignified  and  highly  respectable  manner. 
The  judges  had  not  in  those  days  in  India  the  nice 
appHances  which,  even  in  the  case  of  a  very  close 
finish,  make  decisions  comparatively  simple  in  this 
country.  As  a  consequence,  Eastern  racing  verdicts 
used  to  be  at  times — well,  rather  unreHable.  More- 
over, the  judges  themselves  were  not  up  to  our  stan- 
dard at  home,  being  often  selected  from  purely  social 
considerations.  It  occasionally  happened  that  the 
judge  would  form  his  decision  on  the  advice  of  out- 
siders or  even  on  some  faint  popular  demonstration. 
Racing  one  afternoon  at  Lucknow  in  1869,  in  a  very 
bad  light,  I  agreed  with  my  opponent  to  have  a  little 
fun  at  the  expense  of  the  judge.  I  won  the  race  by 
half  a  length,  but  on  retiring  to  weigh  in  addressed 
my  opponent  as  the  winner,  which  so  embarrassed 
the  judge  that  he  ordered  the  race  to  be  run  ofi  next 


14   FORTY  YEAES  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

day.  This  was  done,  and  I  again  won.  Imagine 
such  a  thing  occurring  in  this  country. 

There  was  another  occasion  at  Cawnpore,  when 
the  judge  was  obviously  on  the  point  of  giving  a 
wrong  verdict.  Fortunately  a  friend  of  the  real 
winner  was  standing  hard  by.  Quick  as  thought  he 
realized  the  position,  and  shouted  out  the  right 
name  in  congratulatory  tones.  The  judge,  who  had 
been  somewhat  confused  by  conversation  with  a 
spectator  just  as  the  horses  were  coming  in,  heard 
these  words  of  congratulation,  and  promptly  altered 
his  opinion  and  decision.  Nobody  was  more  puzzled 
than  the  winner — myself — when  my  'cute  friend  came 
up  and  said,  "  /  won  that  race  for  you,  old  man  !  " 

In  India  almost  anything  was  deemed  good  enough 
for  steeplechasing.  How  the  critical  crowd  at  San- 
down  or  Kempton  would  shake  with  laughter  could 
they  only  see  a  dozen  horses,  such  as  we  had  often 
to  ride  in  India,  turn  out  on  either  of  these  courses. 
There  were  five  breeds — first  the  country-bred, 
secondly  the  Arab,  thirdly  the  "  Walers,"  fourthly 
the  Cape  horses,  and  fifthly  the  English-bred.  The 
last-named  were  few  and  far  between.  They  were 
mostly  brought  over  by  a  few  wealthy  civilians  who 
were  keen  on  sport.  Naturally  in  handicaps,  and 
weight  for  age  and  class  races,  there  was  often  a  great 
diversity  in  the  weights.  The  English  horses,  though 
they  did  not  as  a  rule  stand  the  heat  so  well  as  any 
of  the  other  breeds,  were  when  "  fit  "  facile  'princeps^ 
and  it  was  therefore  quite  common  to  find  them  con- 
ceding not  pounds,  but  stones,  to  the  Arabs  and 
natives.  The  "  Walers  " — so  called  because  they 
came  from  New  South  Wales — were  on.  the  whole 


MY   SPORTING    CAREER   BEGINS        15 

the  most  useful  horses  for  Indian  steeplechasing. 
They  stood  the  chmate  capitally. 

I  left  for  India  in  the  autunui  of  1867  and  returned 
in  the  spring  of  1870,  so  that  in  all — though  I  com- 
menced riding  directly  I  arrived  there,  and  did  not 
draw  rein  till  it  was  time  to  come  back — I  had  only 
about  two  seasons  of  steeplechasing  and  flat  racing. 
The  biggest  thing  I  rode  in  and  won  was  the  Cawn- 
pore  Steeplechase  on  February  27,  1869.  It  could 
have  been  fairly  described  in  those  days  as  the  Liver- 
pool of  India.  The  course  was  a  four-mile  one,  and 
the  jumps  on  the  whole  about  as  stiff  as  they  make 
them  in  any  part  of  the  world  ;  there  were  no  regu- 
lation fences  or  ditches  then,  and  we  should  as  soon 
have  looked  for  a  nicely  levelled  take-off  as  for  a 
straw-covered  course. 

To  win  me  this  race  I  bought  a  mare  called  Baby 
Blake  for  a  mere  bagatelle.  Baby  Blake  was  a  superb 
jumper  when  she  did  jump,  but  she  usually  fell  some 
time  in  a  race.  Indeed  so  invariable  was  this  habit 
of  Baby  Blake's,  that  even  money  was  laid  that  she 
would  fall.  Her  temper  was  so  uncertain,  that 
rumour  had  it  she  must  always  be  trained  by  moon- 
light. However,  I  did  not  take  much  note  of  these 
tales  against  my  purchase,  but  trained  her  myself  in 
broad  daylight,  cantering  for  miles  in  the  jungle. 
She  started,  despite  her  well-known  jumping  powers, 
an  outsider.  I  secured  the  mare,  by  the  way,  by  the 
merest  chance,  and  indeed  went  to  Cawnpore  with 
the  idea  of  riding  another  horse.  It  turned  out  a 
regular  brute,  with  an  action  like  a  dromedary's, 
and  fortunately  went  lame  in  its  trial.  I  was  then 
offered  Baby  Blake. 


16   FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

Amongst  many  Indian  experiences,  which,  alas  ! 
have  so  long  since  become  "  portions  and  parcels  of 
the  dreadful  past,'"  recalled  not  without  a  wrestle  with 
the  memory,  this  Cawnpore  race  stands  out  clear. 
I  can  remember  with  ease  every  incident  of  the  race. 
The  third  fence,  composed  of  a  couple  of  high  mud 
walls  as  hard  as  rocks,  and  in  and  out  of  a  road,  was 
the  stiffest  in  the  course.  The  whole  field  with  one 
exception  refused.  Baby  Blake  alone  cleared  the 
fence,  and  that  gave  me  a  commanding  lead  which 
I  never  lost.  She  won  by  half  a  length,  thanks  in 
no  small  degree  to  a  gallant  sowar,  who  prevented 
me  just  in  time  from  getting  off  the  course.  In  this 
steeplechase  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  beat  several 
of  the  best  jockeys  of  the  day  in  India,  including  a 
professional  rider,  who  came  in  second  on  Happy 
Boy,  and  had  been  backed  for  a  good  deal  of  money. 

By  a  curious  chance  odds  of  100  to  1  were  offered 
against  Baby  Blake  during  the  race,  as  they  were 
against  Maid  of  the  Mist  in  the  South  of  Ireland  Mih- 
tary  before  the  race.  It  fell  about  in  this  way.  One 
of  the  jockeys — my  friend  St.  Quentin — was  wearing 
colours  very  similar  to  mine.  At  the  second  fence 
his  horse  fell ;  whereupon  there  were  bets  freely 
offered  of  100  to  1  against  Baby  Blake.  One  astute 
party,  by  the  aid  of  a  particularly  good  pair  of  field- 
glasses,  perceived  the  error  which  the  layers  of  odds 
had  fallen  into.  He  instantly  snapped  up  the  long 
odds,  and  made  a  small  fortune  out  of  my  win. 

The  mare,  though  a  very  excitable  one,  was  a 
beautiful  fencer  when  she  chose.  Whilst  I  had  her, 
and  before  I  had  her,  she  never  lost  a  race  when  she 
did  not  fall.    I  recollect  once  making  a  "  double  " 


MY   SPORTING    CAREER   BEGINS        17 

like  that  at  Punchestown.  She  simply  flew  it.  The 
last  I  heard  of  Baby  Blake  was  just  before  embarking 
at  Bombay  for  England.  She  had  then  very  recently 
won  the  Lucknow  Steeplechase. 

A  few  days  after  the  race  at  Cawnpore  there  was 
a  big  event  at  Meerut,  and  Baby  Blake  would  have 
probably  won  that  as  well  had  it  not  been  for  her 
queer  temper.  No  one  had  ever  got  a  spear  off  her 
back,  and  as  this  was  a  sine  qua  non  in  the  race  in 
question,  she  could  not  quahfy  for  it.  As  I  have 
already  said,  I  missed  no  opportunity  of  riding  in 
India.  The  majority  of  the  horses  I  rode,  both 
steeplechasing  and  on  the  flat,  belonged  to  friends. 
Flat  racing  has  never  been  exactly  my  metier,  and, 
frankly,  I  consider  it  a  much  tamer  sport  on  the  whole 
than  steeplechasing.  At  the  same  time  I  have  now 
and  then  ridden  on  the  flat  in  England,  and  frequently 
did  so  in  India.  One  of  the  best  horses  I  owned  in 
India  was  Rockwood,  which  I  bought  from  Colonel 
Robartes.  Rockwood  was  certainly  very  speedy, 
far  above  the  Indian  average. 

The  most  sensational  race  I  have  ever  won  in  my 
opinion,  either  at  home  or  abroad,  was  on  Rockwood, 
the  occasion  being  the  First  Class  Handicap  at  Luck- 
now  in  1869,  the  queer  ending  of  which  has  been 
referred  to.  I  trained  Rockwood,  who  was,  like 
Baby  Blake,  a  "  Waler,"  on  a  right-handed  course, 
and  had  to  run  him  at  Lucknow  on  a  left-handed 
one.  As  a  consequence  he  went  clean  out  of  the 
course.  It  was  quite  a  business  getting  his  head 
straight,  and  I  recollect  considering  whether  it  was 
the  slightest  good  to  continue  the  race.  Resolving 
to  have  a  try,  though  it  seemed  quite  hopeless,  I  got 

3 


18   FOETY  YEAES  OF  A  SPOETSMAN'S  LIFE 

Eockwood  back,  started  in  pursuit  of  the  rest,  and 
eventually  won  by  half  a  head.  I  was  top  weight — 
11  st.  7  lbs. — but  the  time  for  the  mile  was  1  minute 
57  seconds,  a  remarkable  achievement  considering 
the  conduct  of  my  mount. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say,  that  none  of  the 
jockeys  against  whom  I  was  pitted  in  India  are 
riding  to-day.  One,  however,  who  was  riding  at  that 
time  in  India  is  still  well  to  the  fore  in  the  English 
racing  world — Lord  Marcus  Beresford.  The  best 
soldier-rider  in  India  at  the  end  of  the  Sixties  was 
probably  "  Ben  "  Eoberts.  Most  racing  men  know 
*'  Ben  ''  well  enough  by  sight  at  race  meetings  near 
town  at  the  present  time,  where  he  attends  in  his 
official  capacity  as  an  officer  of  the  Metropolitan 
Police.  Many  too  know  him  as  a  good  fellow  and 
a  first-rate  sportsman.  In  India  "  Ben "  on  his 
favourite  mount  Tomboy  was  always  dangerous. 
Good  judges  never  overlaid  their  book  against  that 
pair. 

Amongst  other  prominent  riders  of  the  day  in  India 
were  Jousifie,  Dignum,  and  Captain  Soames.  Of 
these  Dignum  was  quite  the  foremost,  and  indeed 
the  best  at  that  time  in  India  on  the  flat.  He  was 
one  of  the  few  men  who  could  sit  a  regular  buck- 
jumper  such  as  occasionally  turned  up  amongst  the 
*'  Walers."  Without  bursting  the  girths  some  of 
these  animals  could  slip  the  saddle  ofi  clean  over 
their  heads. 

In  his  Indian  days  Jousif!e  could  waste  to  under 
9  st.  The  last  time  I  saw  him  in  England  some  years 
back  he  could  scarcely  have  scaled  less  than  eighteen. 
He  is  dead  now,  poor  fellow  ! 


MY   SPORTING   CAREER   BEGINS       19 

Captain  Joy  and  Lord  Marcus  Beresford  ran  a 
stud  between  them,  and  were  pretty  successful  on 
the  flat.  To  meet  Marcus  is  rightly  deemed  a  pleasure 
by  all  save  those  who  are  unfortunate  enough  to 
come  into  contact  with  his  fists.  But  perhaps  few 
people  have  ever  derived  such  pleasure  out  of  a 
meeting  with  him  as  I  did  one  burning  day  in  1870. 
My  brother  and  I  had  arranged  to  meet  Marcus  on 
that  day  on  the  road  to  Bombay,  where  his  regiment 
was  on  the  march,  and  we  started  by  the  railway 
from  Allahabad.  The  line  was  not  at  the  time  quite 
completed,  so  we  arranged  to  finish  our  journey  on 
horseback.  But  before  long  my  brother's  horse 
dropped  from  sunstroke,  and  we  were  therefore  com- 
pelled'to  ride  mine  in  turns.  In  order  to  economize 
time  we  did  it  in  this  way  :  first  I  would  ride  a  mile, 
then  tie  up  my  horse  and  walk  on  till  my  brother, 
now  mounted,  overtook  me  ;  then  I  would  again  ride 
whilst  he  followed  on  foot.  In  this  way  we  got  along 
at  the  very  respectable  rate  of  about  six  miles  an  hour. 
Marcus  saw  us  coming,  and  started  out  to  meet  us 
with  a  flagon  of  delicious  iced  drink — an  angel  he 
seemed  in  earthly  guise  ! 

In  both  '68  and  '69  we  had  the  cholera  with  a 
vengeance  in  India.  Thanks  to  a  good  constitution, 
I  was  able  myself,  while  others  were  constantly  getting 
invalided  off  to  the  hills,  to  face  the  demon  with  im- 
punity, and  both  years — without  once  taking  a  week's 
leave — saw  the  epidemic  run  its  ghastly  course.  In 
sticking  to  my  post,  however,  it  may  be  admitted 
that  I  had  to  a  certain  extent  an  eye  to  business. 
An  officer  who  managed  to  see  the  cholera  through 
in  this  way  might  fairly  reckon  on  getting  leave  later 


20   FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

on  for  racing  purposes.  In  one  instance,  during  the 
cholera  visitation  in  1869,  I  actually  had  to  do  duty 
as  chaplain,  as  the  individual  who  ordinarily  filled 
that  post  had,  in  common  with  most  of  the  officers, 
made  himself  scarce  for  a  while.  On  another  occa- 
sion I  was  the  acting  adjutant  and  orderly  officer. 
My  colonel  scolded  me  severely  for  coming  out  during 
the  most  deadly  hours  of  the  day,  and  remarked 
half  seriously  and  half  jocularly,  "  I  shall  put  you 
under  arrest,  sir,  if  you  do  it  again.''  Whereupon 
I  pointed  out  as  a  deterrent,  that  I  was  the  only 
officer  fit  for  duty.  "  Well,"  said  he  discreetly, 
*'  then  I  won't  do  so." 

Shortly  after  this  1869  visitation  of  the  cholera  I 
asked  for  leave  in  order  to  get  away  from  Seetapore, 
where  we  were  quartered,  and  take  part  in  the  races 
at  Sonepore.  I  accordingly  asked  my  colonel  for  a 
week's  extension  of  my  leave  ;  he  quite  approved, 
but  had  not  the  authority  to  give  it.  The  general 
officer  in  command,  namely,  General  Brooke  Taylor, 
was  the  person  who  possessed  the  requisite  authority. 
As  it  happened  he  was  away  tiger-shooting,  and  his 
place  filled  by  a  man  who  evidently  burned  to  make 
his  temporary  power  felt.  The  substitute  promptly 
refused  the  necessary  permission.  I  wired  to  my 
colonel  to  know  whether  leave  had  been  granted. 
The  reply  came  that  it  was  refused.  Regarding  this 
as  very  shabby  treatment  after  the  way  in  which  I 
had  stuck  to  my  post  during  the  cholera,  I  felt  justi- 
fied in  mistaking  the  tenor  of  the  telegram,  and  wired 
back  thanks.  I  was  just  beginning  to  enjoy  the 
leave  of  absence  that  had  not  been  granted,  when  a 
fresh  message  arrived  couched  in  a  rather  peremp- 


MY   SPORTING   CAREER    BEGINS        21 

tory  tone,  and  very  reluctantly  I  had  to  return. 
Afterwards,  when  I  mentioned  the  way  in  which  I 
had  been  treated  to  General  Brooke  Taylor,  he  very 
handsomely  expressed  his  regret,  and  declared  that 
had  he  been  at  his  post  he  would  have  granted  the 
request  himself  without  a  moment's  hesitation. 
Nevertheless  the  thing  made  me  very  sore,  and,  com- 
bined with  the  infamous  terms  of  my  father's  will, 
had  a  good  deal  to  do  with  my  resolve,  carried  out 
a  short  time  afterwards,  to  quit  the  service. 

My  position  at  Lucknow  on  my  way  back  from 
Sonepore  was  rather  humorous  in  a  way  when  I  was 
in  correspondence  about  my  leave  of  absence.  The 
Brigade  Major  urged  me  not  to  go  on  the  course 
whatever  I  did,  lest  the  General  should  put  me  under 
arrest ;  and  at  the  very  same  time  an  officer  high  in 
command  sent  me  the  message,  "  For  goodness'  sake 
don't  show  yourself  on  the  course,  for  if  you  do  the 
Brigade  Major  will  put  you  under  arrest !  "  As  I 
could  not  ride  a  horse  of  my  own  at  Sonepore  I  asked 
a  friend  to  do  so,  and  drove  up  in  a  closed  convey- 
ance to  see  him,  so  I  fondly  hoped,  win  the  race. 
Instead  I  saw  my  horse  bolt  off,  and  disappear  at 
length  like  a  speck  on  the  horizon. 

Once  I  ordered  a  breakfast  against  the  Lahore 
Races  which  cost  £6000.  So  at  any  rate  declared  so 
well-informed  an  organ  as  the  Gaulois.  The  same 
paper  volunteered  the  information  that  I  was  "  worth 
millions  of  money,"  though  content  to  occupy  "  the 
modest  rank  of  an  officer  in  the  British  Army.'*  The 
breakfast  included  in  the  way  of  drinkables  "  eighty 
dozen  bottles  of  champagne,  eight  hundred  bottles 
of  Bordeaux,  eight  hundred  bottles  of  Burgundy," 


22   FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN^S  LIFE 

besides  brandy  ad  lib.  To  cap  this  extraordinary 
tale  I  actually,  according  to  the  same  authority, 
paid  the  bill !  The  real  facts  about  the  "  breakfast  " 
were  these.  It  was  a  picnic  at  Seetapore,  at  which 
about  a  dozen  friends  were  present.  After  we  had 
finished  it  was  the  bandsmen's  turn.  They  certainly 
did  themselves  handsomely,  drinking  liqueur  out  of  the 
finger-glasses.  Afterwards  the  music  they  played 
was  wild  and  wandering. 

In  lieu  of  big  game  shooting  and  pig-sticking, 
which  were  rather  too  costly  forms  of  amusement  for 
me  to  combine  with  racing  and  chasing,  I  took  very 
kindly  to  snipe-shooting.  "  Joe,"  alias  Arthur  Bagot 
of  ours,  was  very  keen  on  this  sport,  and  between 
us  we  perhaps  accounted  for  as  many  snipe  as  most 
guns  in  India  during  the  two  seasons  we  were  shooting. 
We  got  to  fancy  ourselves  so  much  that  we  chal- 
lenged any  two  officers  in  the  regiment  to  back  their 
breech-  against  our  muzzle-loaders.  But  the  challenge 
was  not  taken  up. 

Another  of  my  companions  out  sniping  was 
Captain  Thackwell  of  the  5th  Lancers,  a  very  popular 
soldier  in  India  in  those  days.  Well,  I  recollect  a 
friendly  httle  bet  Thackwell  and  I  once  had  as  to 
who  would  make  the  best  bag  in  the  day.  We  had 
actually  tied  when  dayhght  failed ;  but  on  our  way 
home  in  the  dusk  Thackwell  by  a  piece  of  good  luck 
got  an  unexpected  shot,  and  knocked  over  his  snipe. 
A  kite  swooped  down  and  picked  it  up.  Thackwell, 
who  was  unloaded,  thought  he  alone  had  twigged 
what  the  bird  of  prey  had  done  on  my  behalf.  He 
slyly  tried  to  say  very  casually,  "  I  say,  tickle  up 
that  kite,  old  fellow,"  but  his  anxiety  was  obvious 


MY   SPORTING   CAREER    BEGINS       23 

enough.  "  Very  well/'  said  I,  suiting  my  action  to 
his  word  ;  "  but  of  course  the  snipe  will  go  to  my 
bag,"  to  which  he  could  not  very  well  demur.  Poor 
chap,  he  was  killed  by  a  tiger  a  few  days  after,  or 
rather  died  from  the  shock  of  an  operation  which 
had  to  be  performed  on  him,  owing  to  the  terrible 
way  in  which  he  had  been  mauled  in  the  jungle. 

In  the  old  Oriental  Sporting  Magazine  I  came  across 
the  following,  written  evidently  by  one  of  his  great 
friends — "  Killed  by  a  Tiger.  In  a  foreign  land 
far  from  his  own  country  and  his  own  people,  but  not 
from  his  friends,  for  he  had  many,  died  yesterday 
morning  at  Baraitch  in  Oude,  from  wounds  inflicted 
by  a  tiger,  Captain  F.  I.  R.  Thackwell,  H.M.'s  5th 
Lancers — one  of  the  finest  of  soldiers,  a  true-hearted 
Enghsh  gentleman,  and  as  thorough  a  sportsman  as 
ever  lived.  The  regiment  can  ill  afford  to  lose  such 
an  officer,  and  to  us  that  knew  him  such  a  friend. 
There  are  many  far  away  in  the  old  country  who  a 
very  few  months  ago  were  sharing  with  him  in  the  wild 
sports  of  India,  who  will  not  be  ashamed  to  find 
their  eyes  wet,  when  they  read  the  sad  account  of  the 
death  of  one  of  the  many  good  fellows  whose  resting- 
place  is  in  this  distant  land,  so  far  from  many  but 
not  from  all  who  loved  him.  Lucknow,  June  25, 
1869." 

In  India  too  I  had  occasional  opportunities  for 
pigeon  shooting,  a  sport  for  which  I  had  acquired 
a  decided  taste  in  Ireland.  Shooting  once  in  the 
distressful  country,  I  was  successful  in  dividing  a 
good  sweepstake  with  Colonel  Chalmer,  who  then 
commanded  one  of  our  battalions.  Much  later  on, 
and  long   after  my  return  to  England  from  India, 


24  FOETY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

I  again  tried  my  skill  at  pigeon  shooting,  and  was 
rather  successful  in  the  Grand  International  at 
Brighton  in  1886,  though  I  had  had  no  practice.  At 
twenty-five,  twenty-seven,  and  twenty-nine  yards 
1  killed  all  my  birds  except  one.  The  last  pigeon  I 
shot  fell  just  out  of  bounds,  so  I  had  to  rest  content 
with  third  prize  ;  Vaughan  and  Blake  being  respec- 
tively first  and  second.  My  pigeon  shooting,  however, 
has  been  decidedly  spasmodic,  and  since  then  I  don't 
think  that  I  have  killed  a  bird  over  a  trap  in  any 
important  contest. 

The  period  during  which  I  was  stationed  in  India 
was  a  very  interesting  one  from  a  military  as  well  as 
a  sporting  point  of  view.  In  the  end  of  the  Sixties 
those  three  superb  regiments,  Probyn's  Horse, 
Robartes'  Horse,  and  Hodgson's  Horse,  were  still  in 
their  prime.  There  are  probably  very  few  soldiers 
acquainted  with  those  regiments  who  would  declare 
that  their  disbandment — for  such  it  practically  was 
— worked  wholly  for  the  good  of  the  service.  Having 
seen  more  than  a  little  of  the  regiments,  and  noted 
their  unrivalled  smartness  and  efiiciency,  I  have 
never  doubted  that  it  was  sheer  folly  to  do  anything 
but  encourage  the  system.  Colonel  Robartes  never 
took  the  trouble  to  keep  exact  accounts  of  what  he 
spent  on  his  regiment.  He  was  a  rich  man,  and  his 
generosity  in  the  patriotic  work  of  making  Robartes' 
Horse  the  first  cavalry  force  in  the  world  knew  no 
bounds.  When  he  was  called  upon  to  render  an 
exact  account,  he  could  not  do  so,  and  he  was  there- 
fore never  repaid.  It  was  no  secret  that  the  Govern- 
ment remained  his  debtor  to  an  amount  not  far  short 
of  twenty  thousand  pounds. 


MY   SPOETING   CAREER   BEGINS       25 

Colonel — now  Sir  Dighton — Probyn  was  the  ideal 
man  for  a  regiment  such  as  he  actually  commanded. 
There  was  a  glamour  about  his  achievements  in  the 
Indian  Mutiny  which  appealed  irresistibly  to  every 
one,  and  made  him  in  particular  the  idol  of  his  men. 
The  single-handed  combats  against  the  leading 
mutineers  in  which  he  had  often  engaged,  and  being 
a  splendid  swordsman  always  successfully,  had  a 
spice  of  old-world  romance  about  them  that  made 
him  one  of  the  most  interesting  figures  in  the  military 
history  of  the  time — quite  a  modern  Bayard.  The 
picture  of  Lord  Cardigan,  the  "  rigid  Hussar,"  as 
Kinglake  has  finely  called  him,  leading  his  men  down 
the  valley  of  death  at  Balaclava,  which  we  have  all 
drawn  in  imagination,  is  scarcely  a  more  stirring  one 
than  that  of  this  most  distinguished  officer  coming 
forth  from  the  ranks  as  a  warrior  of  old,  and  chal- 
lenging to  personal  combat  the  foeman  most  worthy 
of  his  steel.  This  it  was  that  laid  the  solid  founda- 
tions of  Sir  Dighton  Probyn's  fame. 

In  recalling  these  Indian  experiences  I  have  found 
myself  at  a  considerable  disadvantage,  owing  to  the 
fact  that  my  diaries  were  destroyed  some  time 
since,  so  I  may  frankly  confess  that  no  mention  has 
been  made  of  the  particulars  of  a  good  many  races 
which  I  won,  simply  because  they  are  not  obtainable. 
Before  leaving  India,  however,  I  ought  to  say  some- 
thing about  two  of  the  most  famous  story-tellers — 
in  the  double  sense — of  that  time.  My  memory 
certainly  does  not  fail  me  in  relation  to  Colonel  Bagot 
— cousin  to  my  friend  Joe  of  that  ilk — and  Colonel 
Oakes,  who  must  not  be  confused  with  the  rough 
old  leader  of  the  12th  Lancers. 


26   FOETY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

Both  were  in  the  Indian  Army.  Bagot  was  un- 
questionably a  very  fine  shot  at  big  game,  but  some 
of  his  accounts  of  sport  seemed  a  trifle  over-coloured 
even  to  the  most  credulous  people.  So  much  fun  could 
be  got  out  of  him  that  he  was  often  invited  to  dinners, 
etc.,  simply  to  amuse  the  company  with  his  Mun- 
chausen tales.  Once  he  was  asked  to  the  Govern- 
ment House  on  the  of!-chance  of  his  spinning  some 
exceptionally  fine  yarns  :  nor  did  he  disappoint. 
After  the  wine  began  to  circulate  Bagot  got  into  great 
form,  and  told  one  story  which  perhaps  eclipsed 
even  Oakes'  best  efforts  in  the  same  field.  He  was 
very  anxious,  he  related,  to  secm^e  a  pair  of  fine 
horns,  and  accordingly  went  out  shooting.  As  good 
luck  would  have  it,  he  speedily  came  across  two 
magnificent  stags,  and  shot  them  both.  "  Would 
you  believe  it  ?  "  said  Bagot,  "  at  the  very  moment 
I  dropped  them  right  and  left  they  shed  their  horns  !  " 

A  story  which  has  been  told  in  many  ways  of 
many  people  can  be  properly  related  in  connection 
with  Bagot.  He  once  boasted  to  a  friend  about  an 
exploit  in  snipe  shooting,  when  he  killed,  so  he  said, 
forty-nine  birds  in  as  many  shots.  "  Why  not  make 
it  fifty  while  you  are  about  it  ?  "  inquired  a  cynical 
hstener.  "  Sir,"  quoth  Bagot  with  befitting  gravity, 
"  do  you  suppose  I  would  risk  my  immortal  soul  for 
the  sake  of  a  single  snipe  ?  '' 

Bagot  did  not  hide  from  the  world  how  very 
shabbily  he  had  been  treated  by  the  powers  that  be. 
During  the  Mutiny  he  had  been  put  in  command  of 
a  body  of  cavalry  with  instructions  to  attack  certain 
villages.  "  By  gad,  sir,  I  carried  out  my  instructions 
splendidly,"  he  would  say  ;    "  we  killed  an  enormous 


MY   SPORTING   CAREER    BEGINS       27 

number  of  men,  women,  and  children.  Now,  what 
do  you  think  they  did  for  me  after  that  ?  "  His 
hearers,  usually  knowing  well  enough,  would  artfully 
run  through  a  list  of  distinctions  including  the  V.C. 
As  each  one  was  mentioned  Bagot  would  shake 
his  head  vigorously.  Then  at  length,  the  guesser 
having  quite  exhausted  the  list  of  possible  distinc- 
tions, Bagot  would  declare  in  outraged  tones,  "  Sir, 
I  give  you  my  word  of  honour  they  tried  me  by 
court-martial !  " 

Though  a  romancist,  Bagot  was  a  man  of  pluck 
and  resource.  Out  tiger  shooting,  however,  one  day, 
he  seems  to  have  made  a  grave  mistake.  In  the 
company  of  a  friend  he  followed  a  wounded  tiger 
into  the  jungle.  His  friend,  the  present  Lord  Downe, 
was  suddenly  attacked  by  the  creature,  and  Bagot 
came  to  the  rescue.  Whereupon  the  tiger  turned 
its  attention  to  him,  and  seizing  his  leg,  snapped  it. 
Bagot 's  life,  I  believe,  was  saved  by  the  head  shikari, 
who  shot  the  beast  as  it  mauled  its  victim.  The 
rashness  of  following  a  womided  tiger  into  the  jungle 
has  been  cormnented  on  by  several  prominent  big- 
game  shooters.  Captain  Doig  lost  his  life  in  this 
manner  in  1868,  and  Sir  J.  Dormer,  Commander-in- 
Chief  at  Madras,  also  followed  a  wounded  animal, 
and  received  wounds  which  killed  him.  A  man  to 
follow  a  tiger  under  such  circumstances  cannot  watch 
both  front  and  flanks,  which  is  obviously  the  work 
of  three  men,  and  a  disaster  is  therefore  very  likely 
to  take  place. 

Strange  and  sad  was  poor  Bagot's  end.  After 
this  encounter,  and  when  invalided  home,  he  swore 
to  return  and  have  his  revenge  on  the  tigers.     He 


28  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

did  return,  and  set  out  into  the  jungle,  taking  with 
him  two  kinds  of  powders — arsenic  for  preparing  the 
skins  of  the  beasts  he  might  shoot,  and  baking- 
powder  for  bread.  He  had  not  been  out  long  before 
the  servant  confused  the  two  powders,  and  the 
master  took  arsenic  in  his  food  by  mistake. 

The  "  hen-coop  tale  "  has  been  told  in  connection 
with  various  men,  but  there  is  reason  to  believe  that 
Bagot  is  the  real  hero  of  it.  As  Bagot  told  the  story, 
he  was  wrecked  in  the  Indian  Ocean,  and  managed 
to  save  himself  by  clinging  to  a  hen-coop.  After  a 
while  he  became  quite  at  home  on  the  hen-coop,  and 
made  for  Aden.  He  met  a  steamer  on  the  way 
thither,  and  the  captain  offered  to  take  him  on  board. 
Bagot  asked  where  the  steamer  was  going  to,  and 
the  reply  was  Bombay.  "  But  I  am  going  to  Aden, 
thanks,"  said  Bagot,  "  so  I'm  afraid  I  must  decline 
your  kind  offer."  Thus  they  parted,  Bagot  merely 
accepting  the  loan  of  a  few  biscuits  and  some  ship's 
rum  to  keep  him  going  till  Aden  was  reached.  Once 
when  Bagot  was  telling  this  adventure  of  his  he 
ended  up  with,  "  Good  fellow  that  captain  ;  I  have 
never  met  him  since."  A  naval  man  present  thought 
he  would  take  a  rise  out  of  him ;  so  he  cut  in  with, 
"  Give  me  your  hand,  sir ;  I  was  that  captain  !  " 
Not  for  a  moment  at  a  loss,  Bagot  said,  "  Oh  yes, 
old  fellow,  of  course  !  I  had  quite  forgotten  you  ! 
I  think  you  have  grown  your  beard  since  then." 

Oakes  must  have  got  shockingly  muddled  about 
racing  when  in  the  early  sixties  he  came  home  on 
leave  of  absence.  He  spoke  to  me  about  Rupee 
winning  the  Oaks.  I  rather  fancied  I  knew  some- 
thing about  the  subject,  so  ventured  to  take  excep- 


MY   SPORTING   CAREER    BEGINS        29 

tion  to  this  statement.  Oakes  persisted,  and  offered 
to  bet  me  a  gold  mohur  he  was  right.  I  took  the 
bet,  and  we  then  consulted  the  authorities.  There 
we  found  that  Rupee  had  won,  not  the  Oaks,  but 
the  Ascot  Cup,  a  vastly  different  affair.  Oakes  paid 
his  bet  and  admitted  his  error,  explaining  that  he 
had  seen  so  much  racing  about  that  time  that  he  had 
confounded  Epsom  with  Ascot ! 

These  two  inveterate  raconteurs  were,  by  the  way, 
popularly  represented  as  being  rather  afraid  of  one 
another.  Each  thoroughly  recognized  no  doubt  the 
other's  reputation  for  wonderful  tales.  They  accord- 
ingly avoided  meeting  as  much  as  possible,  and  when 
it  was  said  in  the  presence  of  Oakes,  "  By  the  way, 
Bagot's  been  invited,"  or,  "  By  the  way,  shall  we 
invite  Bagot  ?  "  he  would  reply,  "  Well,  between 
you  and  me  Bagot's  the  biggest  liar  in  all  India." 
Bagot  for  his  part  used  to  express  himself  quite  as 
freely  about  Oakes. 


CHAPTER   II 

SPORT  AND   SPORTSMEN 

t  ARRIVED  home  from  India  in  the  spring  of 
1870,  and  almost  immediately  afterwards  left 
the  service — to  be  precise,  I  retired  from  the  Army 
on  April  27th,  1870,  having  served  with  the  60th 
about  four  years.  Before  I  had  been  back  many 
weeks  I  planned  out  a  little  chasing  for  myself  in 
the  waning  of  the  season.  It  happened  that  a  meeting 
was  being  arranged  at  Childerditch,  which  is  outside 
Lord  Petre's  place,  Thorndon  Park,  close  to  Brent- 
wood. I  secured  a  mare,  which,  in  affectionate 
memory  of  my  best  Indian  mount,  was  named  Baby 
Blake.  But  she  was  a  poor  jade  compared  with  the 
superb  fencer  on  whom  I  won  the  great  Cawnpore 
race,  and  could  not  carry  my  colours  nearer  victory 
than  third  place.  My  old  friend  and  companion 
Billy  White  was  riding  that  day.  Billy  was  my  first 
instructor  in  riding,  and  blooded  me  with  the  Essex 
and  Suffolk  Hounds,  at  the  tender  age  of  seven  years. 
This  Childerditch  meeting  was  remarkable  in  more 
ways  than  one.  I  was  boasting  just  now  of  having 
ridden  for  over  forty  years,  and  into  my  sixty-fourth 
year.  But  there  rode  at  Childerditch,  and  rode 
bravely,  a  man  of  no  less  than  seventy  years  of  age, 
namely,  Briant,  a  horse-dealer  of  repute  in  that 
part  of  the   world.     A  steeplechaser  of   well  over 

30 


SPOET   AND   SPOETSMEN  31 

seventy  years  of  age  seems  to  me  at  least  as  remark- 
able in  his  own  province  as  a  Prime  Minister  like 
Mr.  Gladstone  of  over  eighty.  I  should  think  that 
the  case  of  Briant  is  almost  unique,  and  have  cer- 
tainly only  heard  of  one  other  which  at  all  compares 
with  it,  namely,  that  of  Lord  Buchan.  I  had  it  from 
Lord  Buchan  himself  that  he  rode  and  won  a  race  in 
the  Isle  of  Wight  after  he  had  passed  his  seventieth 
year.  After  the  race,  however,  he  fell  of!  from  utter 
exhaustion,  whereas  Briant  was  comparatively  fresh. 

But  Childerditch  was  remarkable  in  another,  and 
much  less  creditable,  respect.  It  was  notorious  that 
some  of  the  most  flagrant  "  ramping  "  on  record 
took  place  at  that  meeting.  In  one  race  there  were 
three  horses  running  in  the  same  interest.  Now 
the  order  had  undoubtedly  been  given  to  win  with 
one  of  these  horses,  and  that  probably  not  the 
favourite.  But  the  horse  kept  on  refusing,  and  the 
jockeys  on  the  other  two  horses  didn't  know  what 
to  do.  They  dared  not  come  on,  and  so  commenced 
falling  all  over  the  place  in  a  pretty  palpable  manner. 
At  this  point  a  well-known  dresser,  who  only  died 
very  recently,  was  observed  by  those  who  noticed 
what  was  proceeding  to  go  down  and  give  them 
the  requisite  directions.  When  he  came  back  he 
very  properly  got  his  head  punched  for  his  trouble, 
though  that  no  doubt  he — or  at  any  rate  his  gang 
of  rascally  associates — regarded  as  a  detail.  Lord 
Petre  was  greatly  shocked  at  these  scandalous 
proceedings,  so  much  so  that  he  actually  took  the 
extreme  course  of  abolishing  the  meeting. 

This  is  one  of  the  worst  instances  of  swindling 
which  has  ever  come  under  my  notice  throughout 


32   FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

my  racing  and  chasing  career.  Probably  I  have 
ridden  at  a  good  many  meetings  where  foul  play  has 
been  manifest  to  many  experienced  observers  ;  but 
the  seamy  side  of  horse-racing  is  always  more  likely 
to  present  itself  to  persons  who  have  considerable 
financial  interests  at  stake  than  to  those  who  ride 
from  sheer  love  of  the  sport.  I  have  never  made  it 
my  business  to  look  very  closely  into  these  matters, 
except  of  course  when  they  have  obviously  affected 
my  chances  of  winning,  because  I  have  never  gambled 
to  any  extent  on  horses.  We  most  of  us  have  an 
occasional  side  bet  of  a  sovereign  or  two  on  an  event 
which  interests  us.  Even  Lord  Falmouth  himself 
is  recorded  to  have  backed  one  of  his  horses  on  a 
certain  occasion  to  win  him  a  small  silver  coin,  and 
I  will  frankly  confess  that  when  I  have  believed 
myself  to  be  the  possessor  of  a  really  good  bit  of 
information,  I  have  frequently  had  a  trifle  on.  But 
that  is  all.  It  is  my  belief  that  betting  regularly 
on  horse-racing,  whether  on  the  course  or  over  the 
tape,  is  a  very  poor  game  except  to  the  very  few  who 
give  up  all  their  time  and  energy  to  it  and  can 
reckon  on  really  good  information.  Even  then  a 
man  finds  it  passing  difficult  to  reckon  on  making 
a  sure  income  every  year,  as  the  bookmakers  now 
lay  far  shorter  odds  than  formerly. 

Rogues  there  doubtless  are,  and  to  spare,  con- 
nected with  horse-racing.  It  is  inevitable  that  a 
sport,  so  indissolubly  connected  with  gambhng, 
should  draw  round  itself  a  large  crowd  of  blacklegs 
and  pilferers.  Indeed  it  is  perfectly  safe  to  lay  it 
down  as  a  hard-and-fast  rule  that  no  sport  or  game 
in  which  betting  is  a  feature  can  remain  utterly 


SPORT   AND   SPORTSMEN  33 

incorruptible.  Idle  is  it,  therefore,  to  attempt  to 
whitewash  the  dark  side  of  horse-racing.  I  was 
reading  some  years  ago,  in  the  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  the 
letter  of  "a  regular  race-goer,"  who  took  up  the 
cudgels  on  behalf  of  his  favourite  sport.  Some  of 
his  arguments  were  ingenious,  but  unsound.  He 
asserted  that  there  were  probably  not  a  dozen  owners 
then  running  racehorses  in  England  who  would 
order  them  to  be  "  pulled."  This  may  be  so,  though 
scarcely  owing  to  the  reason  given,  namely,  that 
such  a  "  pulling  "  order  would  place  the  owner  and 
trainer  for  ever  after  in  the  power  of  the  jockey.  A 
jockey's  word  is  not  better  than  that  of  an  owner  or 
a  trainer  ;  and  besides,  if  the  jockey  obeyed,  he  would 
in  his  own  interests  keep  his  mouth  closed.  There 
are  other  ways  of  preventing  a  horse  from  winning 
a  race  besides  that  of  "  pulling."  A  horse  can  be 
"  stuffed  "  before  the  race  ;  that  is  probably  a  much 
safer,  and  an  equally  sure,  method  of  accomplishing 
the  sinister  design.  I  recollect  once  a  well-known 
cross-country  jockey,  immediately  after  dismounting 
in  a  race,  give  the  owner  the  last  thing  in  the  world 

he  expected  or  bargained  for.     "  You villain  !  " 

said  he ;  "  you  '  stuffed  '  that  horse.     Never  you  ask 
me  to  ride  for  you  again  !  "    0  si  sic  omnes  ! 

"  Good  things  "  in  racing  and  betting  often  turn 
out  to  be  the  worst  things.  Once  I  prided  myself 
on  having  made  what  I  regarded  as  a  really  nice 
Httle  wager  with  the  Duke  of  Hamilton.  We  were 
discussing  the  weights  horses  had  carried  in  the 
Grand  National,  and  referring  to  Cortolvin, — which 
had  no  less  than  11  st.  13  lbs.  on  his  back,  the  heaviest 
impost  ever  carried  to  victory  at  Liverpool,  excepting 

3 


34   FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

that  of  Cloister, — I  mentioned  the  horse  as  winning 
in  '66.  The  Duke  said  no,  he  won  in  '67.  I  was 
perfectly  certain  that  '66  was  the  year,  and  the  Duke 
equally  so  that  '67  was  correct.  He  was  so  certain 
that  he  offered  to  bet  100  to  1,  and  I  said,  "  Well,  I 
must  take  that,  Duke."  So  100  to  1  in  sovereigns 
was  laid  twice  and  taken.  We  referred  to  the  Turf 
Guide,  and  found  that  '67  was  the  year.  The  weights 
used  to  come  out  much  earlier  in  those  times,  and 
the  betting  also  commenced  earlier  in  consequence, 
and  this  it  evidently  was  that  had  deceived  me.  The 
Duke  of  Hamilton  was  a  very  difficult  man  to  catch 
tripping  in  a  matter  of  this  kind. 

Of  course  it  is  a  fact  that  a  backer  who  keeps 
his  eyes  open  and  watches  his  chances  carefully, 
may  sometimes  get  the  better  of  the  bookmakers. 
A   remarkable   instance  of   this   was   given  me   by 

Lord .     He  had  backed  Blue  Gown  to  win  him 

a  substantial  sum  in  the  Champagne  Stakes.  Blue 
Gown  won,  but  was  disqualified.  Wells  was  a  care- 
lessly inclined  jockey,  and  in  this  case  would  not 
take  the  trouble  to  waste.  As  a  result  he  scaled 
overweight,  and  a  pile  of  money  on  Blue  Gown  was 
lost  by  backers.  My  friend  had  arranged  to  put  his 
Blue  Gown  winnings — counting  his  chickens,  after 
the  manner  of  many  backers,  before  they  were  hatched 
— on  Achievement  for  the  Leger.  Unfortunately 
he  had  none  to  put,  otherwise  he  would  have  been 
something  like  ten  thousand  pounds  in  pocket. 
Determined  to  make  up  for  his  Blue  Gown  disap- 
pointment, if  possible,  he  went  to  two  or  three  hole- 
in-the-corner  meetings  in  Scotland,  whither  he  knew 
several  of  the  big  bookmakers   were  pursuing  that 


SPOKT   AND   SPORTSMEN  35 

plunger  of  plungers,  Lord  Hastings.  It  was  a  case  of 
the  pursuers  pursued  !  He  having  good  information 
at  his  disposal  won  no  less  than  six  thousand  pounds 
at  these  pottering  little  Scotch  meetings. 

I  would  not  have  any  one  suppose  from  these 
views,  expressed  perhaps  with  "  brutal  frankness," 
that  I  am  joining  in  the  hue-and-cry  of  the  hysterical 
folk  who  regard  horse-racing  as  the  most  iniquitous 
of  sports,  and  support  the  ridiculous  movement  of 
the  Anti-gambling  League  initiated  some  years  ago. 
On  the  contrary,  I  lost  no  time  in  setting  down 
my  name  for  what  it  was  worth  on  the  list  of  the 
Association  which  very  properly  commenced  what 
amounted  to  a  counter-campaign.  In  the  first  place, 
the  attempt  to  stop  people  from  betting  by  such 
means  as  the  Anti-gambling  League  adopted — notably 
their  wild  attack  on  the  Jockey  Club — has  proved  to 
be  utterly  fatuous  ;  and,  in  the  second  place,  the 
movement  was  in  reality  a  thinly  veiled  one,  not  only 
against  gambling,  but  also  against  the  national  sport 
of  horse-racing  into  the  bargain.  It  is  a  monstrous 
thing  to  try  and  discredit  and  injure  this  our  noblest 
and  most  national  sport,  simply  because  it  has  the 
misfortune  to  be  used  as  the  means  of  gambhng  by 
those  who  are  more  interested  in  the  odds  than  the 
horses  or  the  horsemanship.  Fortunately  the  sport- 
ing instinct  seems  to-day  stronger  than  ever  amongst 
all  classes,  and  the  tide  is  not  likely  to  be  stemmed 
by  a  few  faddists  whose  programme  is  to  carry  the 
war  into  the  camp  of  no  less  a  force  than  human 
nature  itself,  by  the  aid  of  grandmotherly  legislation 
and  frivolous  actions  against  a  body  of  gentlemen 
who  represent  the  best  traditions  of  the  turf,  and  do 


36   FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN^S  LIFE 

not  a  little  to  make  horse-racing  a  pure  and  honour- 
able pursuit. 

Childerditch  was  the  only  English  meeting  in  which 
I  rode  in  the  spring  of  1870.  The  season  was  indeed 
then  practically  over,  nor  had  I  many  opportunities 
of  racing  or  chasing  for  some  time  to  come.  The 
summer  and  autumn  of  that  year  were  whiled  away 
for  the  most  part  in  small  and  miscellaneous  sport 
and  pastime.  It  was  in  the  summer  of  1870  that 
wars  and  rumours  of  wars  eventually  took  shape 
and  form  in  the  declaration  of  hostilities  between 
France  and  Germany  on  July  19,  1870.  This  oc- 
curred to  me  as  a  capital  opportunity  to  see  a  little 
service  abroad,  and  I  crossed  the  Channel  with  the 
object  of  getting,  if  it  were  possible,  to  the  front. 

Arrived   at   Amiens   via   Ostend   and   Brussels,   I 
found  a  fair  going  on,  and  mixed  freely  amongst  the 
crowd.     Something  in  my  personal  appearance,  or 
in  the  faultiness  of  my  accent,  I  suppose,  conveyed 
the  impression  that  I  was  a  German  spy.     A  mob 
of  angry  Frenchmen  soon  began  to  gather  round, 
and,  being  quite  alone  and  defenceless  save  for  my 
fists,  it  occurred  to  me  that  for  once  in  a  way  a  re- 
treat would  be  discreet.     Therefore  I  retired  leisurely 
to  my  hotel,  followed  by  the  suspicious  mob.     The 
Commissaire  of  Police  was  sent  for,  but  after  talking 
with  me  and  seeing  my  passport,  he  expressed  himself 
as  quite  satisfied  that  my  business  was  a  legitimate 
one.     He  recommended  me,  however,  to  get  out  of 
Amiens  as  speedily  as  possible.     I  hired  a  convey- 
ance and  left  the  town  with  all  despatch  at  midnight. 
My  driver  knew  the  ropes  well,  and  managed  most 
skilfully  to  get  me  past  all  the  francs  tireurs.     Even- 


SPOET   AND   SPOKTSMEN  37 

tually,  though  not  without  some  ugly-looking  hitches, 
Chermont  was  reached. 

Subsequently  I  walked  on  to  Chantilly,  and  here  I 
was  hospitably  received  by  Colonel  McCall,  the  factor 
of  the  Due  d'Aumale.  I  offered  to  join  the  Saxon 
Uhlans,  but  they  were  not  in  need  of  any  fresh  men, 
and  accordingly  I  had  to  cast  about  for  some  other  way 
of  seeing  a  little  active  service  and  of  getting  to  the 
front.  I  was  given  the  opening  by  a  young  Prussian 
Lieutenant  in  the  Garde  Cuirassiers,  named  Schwarz, 
whom  I  had  the  pleasure  of  introducing  to  Prince 
Blucher  at  a  little  '  Waterloo  '  dinner  I  gave  about  six 
years  ago.  They  had  not  met  since  the  Battle  of 
Koniggratz  in  1866.  Whilst  waiting  for  the  bom- 
bardment of  Paris,  he  and  other  officers  had  been 
enjoying  a  little  sport  in  the  way  of  steep lechasing  near 
Chantilly,  and  this  was  how  I  came  to  know  the  young 
lieutenant.  One  day,  when  wallcing  in  the  forest,  I 
met  Schwarz  with  several  others  in  a  waggon.  He 
told  me  that  they  were  going  to  the  front,  and  asked 
would  I  join  them.     I  did  so  forthwith. 

The  Saxon  Uhlans  were  a  splendid  body  of  cavalry, 
and  more  active  than  the  Cuirassiers,  owing  to  the 
fact  that  they  carried  far  less  weight.  They  inspired 
many  of  the  French  troops  with  a  very  wholesome 
dread.  At  least  one-third  of  the  cuirasses  were 
struck  in  the  course  of  the  war.  At  about  300  yards 
the  bullets  of  the  French  rifles  would  penetrate  their 
breastplates,  which  however  were  effective  against 
fire  at  350  yards  and  greater  distances. 

At  Chantilly  I  had  left  my  kit  at  Colonel  McCalFs. 
It  was  sent  for  after  I  had  gone  to  the  front  with 
Schwarz,  and  after  passing  through  a  great  number 


38   FORTY  YEAKS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

of  hands  came  back  to  me  intact.  To  show  how 
remarkable  was  the  organization  in  the  Prussian  Army 
at  this  time,  I  may  mention  that  even  the  cognac  in 
my  flask  had  not  been  touched.  The  most  careful  in- 
ventory had  been  kept  of  everything  in  the  kit,  down 
to  a  novel,  the  name  of  which  had  been  copied  out  on 
the  receipt  form  which  was  handed  to  me  for  signature. 

Very  soon  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  get  to  St. 
Denis,  just  outside  Paris,  and  here  in  company  with 
Prince  Wreda  saw  something  in  the  nature  of  active 
service.  At  night-time  both  sides  would  often  send 
out  advance  guards,  so  that  the  combatants  tended 
to  get  closer  and  closer  to  each  other.  We  were 
within  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards  or  so  of  the  French 
lines  on  at  least  one  occasion.  In  the  morning  these 
advance  guards  would  retire. 

I  usually,  too,  joined  one  of  the  parties  that  were 
sent  out  after  the  balloons  which  ascended  from 
Paris  in  numbers  for  the  purpose  of  disseminating 
false  information  about  the  state  of  things  prevailing 
in  the  front.  These  balloons  were  of  a  small  size, 
and  as  they  travelled  at  no  great  height,  we  were 
sometimes  able  to  riddle  them  with  bullets.  We 
used  to  fire  at  them  with  the  French  chassepot  rifles 
which  had  been  taken  in  action  or  else  flung  away 
by  fugitives.  The  chassepot  was  a  better  weapon 
than  the  Prussian  needle-gun.  It  was  perhaps  this, 
balloon  hunting  which  first  sowed  in  me  an  ineradi- 
cable passion  for  aeronautics. 

Though  I  had  some  good  fun  with  the  Prussians, 
and  was  hospitably  entertained,  I  scarcely  liked  to 
overstay  my  welcome,  especially  as  there  was  very 
little  food  for  very  many  mouths.     So  back  I  started 


SPORT   AND   SPORTSMEN  39 

to  Cliantilly,  and  after  again  receiving  hospitality 
from  McCall,  went  on  to  Amiens.  I  travelled  a  great 
deal  on  foot,  and  was  in  all  arrested  three  times. 
"When  at  length  I  reached  Amiens,  I  found  myself 
once  more  in  hot  water  amongst  the  townsfolk.  I 
was  suspected,  arrested  as  a  spy,  and  taken  before 
the  head  of  the  poHce — not  my  friend  of  a  prior  occa- 
sion. My  position  looked  a  very  nasty  one  indeed, 
followed  as  I  was  by  an  angry  and  threatening  mob 
of  Frenchmen.  But  again  I  was  treated  with  much 
consideration.  It  happened  that  I  had  with  me — 
first,  the  accounts  of  the  Due  d'Aumale's  estate  which 
Colonel  McCall  had  entrusted  to  my  hands,  asking 
me  to  carry  them  back  to  England  and  deposit  them 
in  safe  keeping  there ;  and  secondly,  a  number  of 
cartoons  which  severely  caricatured  various  things 
and  people  French.  The  first  packet  aroused  the 
suspicions  of  the  people  who  arrested  me,  the  second 
their  fury.  But  the  head  of  the  Amiens  police  having 
glanced  at  the  seal  of  the  Due  d'Aumale  on  my  first 
packet,  and  learnt  my  name  and  nationahty,  courte- 
ously sent  me  on  my  way  rejoicing.  Shortly  after- 
wards I  was  crossing  the  Channel.  The  accounts 
of  the  Chantilly  estate  I  sent  upon  reaching  England 
to  Coutts',  where  they  were  safely  lodged. 

Though  I  am  bound  to  say  that  I  found  the  Prussian 
soldiers  most  kind  and  obliging,  it  seems  that  some 
of  them  acted  with  marked  meanness  towards  Colonel 
McCall,  who  had  shown  them  every  hospitahty  at  the 
chateau.  Despite  the  fact  that  he  had  invited  some  of 
the  officers  to  dinner,  and  stood  them  the  best  wine  in 
his  cellar,  they  sent  him  an  imperious  message  on  the 
following  day  to  the  effect  that  they  required  at  once, 


40   FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

T  think  something  Hke  a  hundred  dozen  bottles  of 
champagne.  Rather  scurvy  treatment  this  after  the 
hospitahty  they  had  received.  McCall  repUed  that 
he  had  not  so  much  in  his  private  cellar. 

The  Duke  of  Hamilton  had  a  racing  stud  at  Chan- 
tilly  at  the  time  hostilities  commenced  between 
France  and  Germany.  His  horses  were  sent  back 
to  England  in  the  midst  of  the  war,  but  not,  I  was  told, 
before  one  or  two  attempts  had  been  made  to  seize 
them  for  military  purposes.  I  am  not  sure  both 
the  French  and  Germans  did  not  meditate  annexing 
the  stud.  Some  German  soldiers,  at  any  rate,  actually 
made  a  raid  on  the  stables,  and  as  luck  would  have 
it  first  entered  into  the  stall  of  an  old  horse  called 
the  Czar.  He  was  a  regular  Tartar,  and  savagely 
went  for  the  intruders,  who  promptly  showed  the 
white  feather.  They  probably  adjudged  after  this 
that  the  stud  was  one  to  be  avoided,  and  made  no 
further  attempt  to  annex  it  for  their  own  purposes. 

The  Duke  of  Hamilton,  by  the  way,  was,  though 
a  thorough  Englishman,  related  rather  closely  to 
most  influential  personages  on  both  sides  in  this 
Franco -Prussian  War.  He  was  nephew  of  the  Grand 
Duke  of  Baden,  and  cousin  of  the  Emperor  of  the 
French.  Hence  he  was  called  the  "  International 
Duke."'  Under  the  circumstances,  it  was  rather  too 
bad  of  the  combatants  trying  to  seize  his  racing  stud. 

The  Duke  was  known  amongst  his  friends  as  a 
capital  all-round  sportsman.  With  the  gloves  he 
used  to  be  a  pretty  hard  hitter  some  years  ago.     Once 

he  was  sparring  with  a  mutual  friend  W .     W 

tapped  the  Duke  several  times  in  a  very  short  space 
of  time,  and  a  professional  who  was  witnessing  the 


SPORT   AND   SPORTSMEN  41 

bout  criticized  the  latter's  method  of  defence.  "  Put 
on  the  gloves  yourself  then  and  try  him,"  was  the 
retort.  The  professional  did,  and  was  speedily 
floored  no  less  than  three  times  by  the  amateur,  who 
was  undoubtedly  a  very  clever  boxer. 

Chantilly  was  the  scene  of  the  Duke's  famous 
match  in  the  Sixties  with  Baron  Malortie.  This 
match  was  to  ride  from  Paris  to  Chantilly  and  back. 
The  Duke  just  outside  Chantilly  galloped  clean  into 
a  heavily-laden  market  cart,  and  fairly  spread- 
eagled  its  contents  ;  so  he  never  got  over  the  second 
half  of  the  course  at  all.  Malortie  was  a  duellist  of 
renown  in  those  days. 

Baron  Malortie,  Bismarck's  nephew,  whom  I  used 
at  one  time  to  see  a  good  deal  of,  had  been  engaged 
in  many  affairs  of  honour.  Several  of  his  duels  have 
become  famous.  Once  when  the  ground  had  been 
paced,  and  it  only  remained  to  give  the  word  to  fire, 
a  sergeant  sprung  out  of  the  bushes  hard  by,  and 
ordered  the  combatants  to  lower  their  pistols.  Mal- 
ortie recognized  in  the  unwelcome  intruder  a  comrade 
who  had  fought  with  him  all  through  the  Mexican 
War.  He  reproached  him  bitterly  for  the  interfer- 
ence. The  sergeant  was  touched  by  Malortie's  re- 
proach, and  expressed  his  regret  that  the  combatants 
had  not  chosen  their  ground  on  the  other  side  of  the 
road,  for  if  the  duel  had  only  taken  place  there  he 
would  not  have  felt  it  necessary  to  interfere,  as  it 
would  have  been  beyond  his  limits.  Next  morning 
the  duellists  met  again,  and  fought  out  their  quarrel 
uninterrupted.  Malortie  fired  too  hastily,  missed 
his  aim,  and  was  thus  placed  at  the  mercy  of  his 
antagonist.     He  crossed  his  arms,  exclaiming  that 


42   FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

he  would  be  shot  Hke  a  man  and  not  like  a  dog.  He 
was  hurt,  but  not  mortally  wounded.  Lying  on 
the  ground,  Malortie  was  too  proud  to  allow  his  foe 
to  see  how  badly  he  was  hurt,  and  so  requested  his 
second  to  give  him  a  cigar.  Malortie  was  constantly 
engaged  at  one  period  of  his  life  in  fighting  men  who 
abused  his  beloved  Hanover. 

The  Baron  was  a  pleasant  raconteur  in  matters 
other  than  duelling.  He  would  tell  how,  when  on 
the  Staff  of  MaximiHan's  General,  and  dining  a  party 
of  four,  the  Emperor,  the  General,  and  their  two 
aides-de-camp,  he  had  the  honour  to  give  the  former 
a  glass  of  particularly  good  Madeira.  The  Emperor 
had  expressed  a  desire  for  some  Madeira,  and  the 
General  reminded  Malortie  of  a  very  fine  sample 
which  he  possessed.  The  wine  was  produced,  and 
Maximilian  praised  it  greatly.  He  naturally  asked 
where  it  came  from.  With  a  respectful  request  that 
the  information  might  not  go  any  further,  Malortie 
informed  the  astonished  Emperor  that  it  came  from 
his  own  caterer. 

The  ducal  stud  at  Chantilly  was  under  the  well- 
known  trainer,  Mr.  Planner.  I  met  him  there  for 
the  first  time,  and  had  some  interesting  conversation 
with  him  concerning  matters  equine.  The  next 
time  we  met  was  under  very  different  circumstances, 
on  Lambourne  Downs,  when  I  was  tramping  through 
peaceful  England  from  Oxford  to  Southampton. 

The  few  years  following  my  dash  into  the  midst  of 
the  Franco-Prussian  War  offered  comparatively  few 
opportunities  for  sport  and  adventure.  My  riding 
was  chiefly  confined  to  the  hunting  field,  though  I 
occasionally  turned  up  where  practicable  at  a  cross- 


SPORT   AND   SPORTSMEN  43 

country  meeting,  and  put  in  from  time  to  time  a  good 
deal  of  miscellaneous  sport  of  lesser  kinds.  In  the 
summer  of  1871,  for  instance,  I  did  much  canoeing, 
chiefly  in  the  Thames  and  its  tributaries.  I  had 
acquired  a  little  knowledge  and  taste  for  this  pleasant 
form  of  aquatics  in  Nova  Scotia,  where  I  was  stationed 
for  some  time  when  a  lad  and  serving  in  the  Royal 
Navy,  and  accordingly,  in  lieu  of  more  stirring  forms 
of  amusement  and  exercise,  took  to  it  again  during 
that  summer.  Frequently  I  used  to  go  well  out  to  sea 
in  my  Rob  Roy  or  single-sculling  boat,  and  spend 
nearly  the  whole  day  on  the  water.  There  are  ad- 
ventures to  be  got  even  out  of  what  seems  rather  a 
tame  kind  of  amusement  to  many  who  prefer  sterner 
modes  of  sport.  I  recollect  one  aquatic  adventure 
in  particular.  I  was  out  between  Ryde  and  South- 
sea  one  evening  when  a  blinding  mist  came  on,  and 
soon  completely  hid  the  dim  outline  of  the  land. 
There  chanced  to  be  a  wind  blowing  which  I  knew 
would  take  me  right  into  Southsea.  Eventually  I 
reached  the  shore,  which  I  subsequently  hugged, 
about  half  a  mile  to  the  west  of  the  Gilkicker  Fort. 
The  mist  was  as  impenetrable  to  the  eye  as  a  dense 
London  fog. 

About  this  period  of  my  life  I  was  compelled  to 
spend  a  good  deal  of  time  in  London,  being  engaged 
in  legal  proceedings.  People  outside  my  immediate 
circle  of  friends  and  relatives  can  scarcely  be  expected 
to  take  much  interest  in  a  matter  of  purely  private 
import  like  this,  and  I  should  not  mention  the  matter 
were  it  not  for  the  fact  that  the  press  has  at  various 
times  commented  on  the  legal  results  of  a  particu- 
larly cruel  Will,  which  has  hampered  me  throughout 


44   FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

my  life,  and  brought  me  into  contact  with  the  cum- 
brous and  costly  machinery  of  the  English  law.  The 
law  is  one  of  the  few  things  which,  I  have  now  come 
to  the  conclusion,  it  behoves  every  sensible  man  to 
flee  from.  But  no  man  can  tamely  submit  to  great 
injustices. 

Exercise  is  as  daily  bread  to  me,  so  that  a  little 
London  life  goes  a  long  way.  But  besides  walking, 
I  sometimes  found  in  London  a  form  of  exercise  which 
entailed  a  vigorous  use  of  the  arms.  About  three- 
or  four-and-thirty  years  ago  it  was  a  quite  common 
thing  to  meet  at  night-time  a  band  of  half  a  dozen 
or  more  young  men — probably  for  the  most  part 
they  were  composed  of  shop  assistants — walking  the 
streets  with  linked  arms,  with  the  object  of  driving 
unoffending  foot  passengers  off  the  pavement.  They 
marched  along  in  much  the  same  way  as  the  under- 
grads  at  Oxford  used  to  do  in  days  of  town  and  gown 
rows.  Once  crossing  Hungerford  Bridge  with  a 
companion  I  was  confronted  with  such  a  body  of 
amateur  bullies,  and  naturally  made  up  my  mind  to 
go  through  them.  This  was  done.  Several  of  the 
young  heroes  then  turned  round  and  threatened  to  give 
us  a  hiding.  As  it  turned  out,  instead  of  receiving 
hidings  we  gave  some  ourselves,  and  there  were  soon 
several  black  eyes  and  bruised  faces  at  the  south  side 
of  Hungerford  Bridge.  Before  long  a  policeman 
appeared  on  the  scene,  and  one  of  the  injured  inno- 
cents at  once  proposed  to  give  us  in  charge  for  assault. 
Several  others  were  ready  to  follow  suit,  and  with 
so  many  witnesses  arrayed  against  us,  the  prospect 
was  distinctly  ominous,  especially  as  we  had  not  a 
scratch  and  several  of  our  aggressors  were  knocked 


SPORT   AND   SPORTSMEN  45 

about.  Besides,  we  had  to  outward  appearance 
first  commenced  undeniable  hostilities  by  breaking 
through  their  line.  Under  the  circumstances  we 
compromised,  and  agreed  to  pay  £50  to  one  of  our 
opponents  who  had  come  very  badly  out  of  the  fray. 
In  an  age  of  chantage,  this  is  the  only  instance  I  can 
recollect  of  having  yielded  to  a  risky,  and  as  a  rule 
an  ineffectual,  method  of  extricating  oneself  from 
an  awkward  dilemma. 

On  another  occasion  I  was  invited  to  square 
matters  by  "a  trifle  down,"  under  very  different 
circumstances.  This  was  also  in  London,  but  at  a 
much  later  date.  It  arose  from  an  altercation  with 
a  hansom-cab  driver,  who  was  incensed  at  my  only 
paying  him  sixpence  over  his  fare.  He  got  off  his 
box,  and  followed  me  into  a  confectioner's  shop  in 
Victoria  Street.  He  would  not  accept,  so  he  said,  a 
farthing  under  two  shillings,  and  in  order  to  enforce 
his  claim  laid  his  hand  upon  my  coat  collar.  I  warned 
him  once  and  warned  him  twice,  that  this  would 
lead  to  complications,  but  being  a  big  blustering 
bully,  he  persisted,  and  seemed  ready  to  shake  the 
extra  sixpence  out  of  me.  I  then  freed  myself,  and 
my  patience  being  quite  exhausted,  returned  the 
assault  with  interest.  He  did  not  fall  down,  but 
spun  half  round.  I  failed  to  resist  the  temptation 
after  this  to  thrust  him  out  of  the  shop  by  means  of 
my  foot  with  just  the  amount  of  necessary  force 
for  such  an  operation.  A  constable  appeared  on  the 
scene,  and  next  day  cabby  and  I  met  at  the  West- 
minster Pohce  Court.  It  had  occurred  to  me  directly 
after  the  fracas  in  the  confectioner's,  that  if  I  gave 
my  full  name  the  man  might  bring  up  relays  of  wit- 


46   FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

nesses  with  the  idea  of  getting  a  handsome  sum  of 
money  out  of  me  ;  so  I  refrained  from  doing  so.  The 
prosecutor,  with  a  black  eye,  saw  me  waiting  outside 
the  court,  and  offered  to  drop  his  case  against  me 
if  I  would  pay  for  the  damage  I  had  done.  "  No,'* 
said  I,  "it  is  too  late  for  that.  If  you  had  made 
that  proposal  yesterday  I  might  have  listened  to  it. 
Now  we'll  see  it  out.''  The  man  upon  appearing 
before  the  magistrate  proceeded  to  give  a  nicely 
prepared  version  of  the  affair.  I  had  offered  him  a 
shilling,  he  had  declined,  and  upon  his  dismounting 
I  had  offered  him  one-and-six  with  one  hand  and 
knocked  him  down  with  the  other,  all  this  taking 
place  outside  the  confectioner's.  Then  I  was  called 
upon  to  give  my  version.  I  related  the  affair  as  it 
had  occurred  inside  the  shop.  "  You  said  it  took 
place  outside  ?  "  remarked  the  magistrate  to  the 
plaintiff.  "  Oh  yes,"  admitted  he,  "I  forgot ;  it 
was  inside."  "  The  case  is  dismissed,"  said  Mr. 
D'Eyncourt  curtly,  which  was  blow  number  three 
for  cabby. 

This  incident  reminds  me  of  an  escapade  which 
happened  in  what  may  be  called  my  salad  days — 
about  which  I  have  been  writing — assuming  that 
I  ever  really  had  any.  Supping,  or  rather  preparing 
to  sup,  one  night  at  a  West  End  restaurant  with  a 
friend,  there  was  set  down  before  me  a  lobster  in 
almost  a  state  of  putrefaction.  The  waiter  after 
serving  up  this  horrible  dish  whisked  out  of  the  room. 
I  went  down  and  remonstrated  with  him.  He  deemed 
my  manner,  I  suppose,  very  threatening,  and  accord- 
ingly dashed  a  pepper-pot  which  he  held  in  his  hand 
full  at  me  ;  the  top  came  off,  and  the  contents  covered 


SPORT   AND   SPORTSMEN  47 

my  clothes,  fortunately  not  getting  into  my  eyes. 
I  proceeded  to  chastise  him,  and  had  to  answer  next 
day  to  a  charge  of  assault  at  Marlborough  Street 
Police  Station,  before,  so  far  as  I  recollect,  Mr.  Knox. 
I  had  no  witness  on  my  behalf,  as  my  friend  had 
not  actually  seen  the  affair  take  place,  and  it  seemed 
likely  that  I  should  get  the  worst  of  the  case.  But 
the  careful  suppression  on  the  part  of  the  waiter  of 
the  facts  about  the  pepper-pot,  which  came  out  when 
my  friend  was  sworn  and  referred  to  my  condition 
after  the  affair,  was  noted  by  the  watchful  magis- 
trate. He  reminded  the  prosecutor  that  he  had 
not  mentioned  this  incident,  which  put  a  different 
aspect  on  affairs,  and  in  the  end  I  had  to  submit  to 
a  small  fine.  For  long  afterwards  friends  were  fond 
of  exclaiming  when  they  met  me  what  a  strong  smell 
of  pepfer  was  about ! 

That  lobster  cost  me  rather  over  five  pounds  in 
all.  The  affair  reminds  me  of  a  bill  I  saw  with  my 
own  eyes  at  the  Black  Swan,  York.  It  was  made 
out  to  the  late  Lord  Glasgow,  a  notoriously  short- 
tempered  man.  The  items  of  the  bill  were  :  Chop 
a  shilling,  champagne  ten  shillings,  and  for  breaking 
waiter's  arm  five  pounds.  There  is  a  much  better- 
known  story  of  Lord  Glasgow  and  a  ticket  clerk  at 
a  railway  station.  His  lordship  needed  change,  so 
handed  a  ten-pound  note  to  the  clerk,  who  told  him 
that  he  must  endorse  it.  He  therefore  wrote  "  Glas- 
gow "  on  the  back,  which  made  the  clerk  say,  "  I 
want  your  name  and  not  where  you  are  going 
to,  silly  mon !  "  The  last  two  words  were  scarce- 
ly out  of  the  clerk's  mouth,  before  the  irate  peer 
had  dashed  his  fist  through  the  booking-office  win- 


48  FOKTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN^S  LIFE 

dow,  accompanying  the  blow  with  some  forcible 
epithet. 

Writing  of  Lord  Glasgow  reminds  me  of  a  nice  ruse 
which  was  once  resorted  to  in  order  to  prevent  his 
exercising    the  right    to  blackball    a  candidate  for 

membership  at  his  club.     The  late  Lord  X being, 

like  Glasgow,  rather  a  peppery  fellow,  was  not  very 
acceptable  amongst  a  certain  circle  of  racing  folk. 
His  name  was  down  for  the  Jockey  Club,  where  two 
blackballs  were  sufficient  to  pill  a  candidate.  Now 
it  was  well  known  amongst  his  Lordship's  friends 
who  were  trying  to  secure  his  election  that  two 
members — General  Peel  and  Lord  Glasgow — had 
resolved  to  blackball  him.  Accordingly  they  had 
to  devise  a  scheme  to  get  these  two  out  of  the  way. 
On  the  day  of  election  both  General  Peel  and  Lord 
Glasgow  were  suddenly  summoned  away — one  of 
them,  I  fancy,  so  far  as  Newmarket — on  urgent 
business.  The  trick  was  done  by  two  bogus  tele- 
grams and  was  completely  successful.  There  was 
no  opposition  to  Lord  X ,  and  he  was  elected. 

In  the  early  Seventies  Mrs.  Frederick  Thistlewayte 
was  living  in  town,  and  often  entertaining  illustrious 
visitors.  I  recollect  not  a  few  interesting  conversa- 
tions with  prominent  public  men  at  the  dinner-table. 
Mrs.  Thistlewayte  herself  was  a  distinctly  well-in- 
formed woman  and  a  clever  hostess.  Lord  Shaftes- 
bury used  often  to  visit  her :  no  doubt  she  helped  him 
materially  in  his  many  philanthropic  schemes.  A 
particularly  fascinating  woman  too  was  Mrs.  Thistle- 
wayte, as  may  be  gathered  from  the  following  per- 
fectly true  tale.  Once  Lord  Shaftesbury  called 
when  an  extremely  well-known    statesman  was  in 


SPORT   AND   SPORTSMEN  49 

the  lady's  drawing-room.  She  skilfully  managed 
to  bring  this  statesman  to  his  bended  knees  in  an 
attitude  of  unspeakable  devotion  at  the  very  moment 
when  the  door  was  opened  and  his  lordship  announced. 
A  certain  photograph  of  Bismarck  and  a  renowned 
singer  sent  a  scream  of  laughter  through  Europe, 
though  it  was  speedily  explained  away.  But  con- 
ceive the  sensation  which  this  extraordinary  incident 
would  have  caused  had  Lord  Shaftesbury  babbled  ! 
He  kept  his  lips  closed,  however,  nor,  to  do  her 
justice,  did  Mrs.  Thistlewayte  proclaim  her  triumph 
from  the  house-tops.  It  will  scarcely  be  denied  that 
this  tale  may  be  fairly  included  in  a  book  of  sporting 
reminiscences. 

We  were  not  above  practical  jokes  in  those  days, 
and  in  the  sturm  und  drang  of  youth.  The  very  friend 
who  was  so  useful  in  my  pepper-pot  case  strove  to 
play  me  off  at  Evans's  one  night  very  neatly.  A  nice 
joke  was  to  put  the  yolk  of  an  egg  in  a  friend's  hat. 

I  managed  to  get  one  in  W 's  hat  all  right  at 

Evans's  on  this  occasion,  but  he  appears  to  have  seen 
what  was  up  and  to  have  transferred  it  to  mine.  It 
was  a  gay  party,  and  between  us  we  made  so  much 
noise  that  old  Paddy  Green  sent  the  chucker-out  to 
quiet  us.  This  fellow  came  at  me  ;  I  clapped  my  opera 
hat  over  his  eyes,  and  to  our  delight  the  yolk  trickled 
down  his  face.  Finding  that  we  were  showing  fight 
Paddy  came  up  with  plenty  of  "  saft  sawder,"  ad- 
dressing us  as  "  Dear  Boys,"  and  the  affair  passed  off 
amicably. 

But  for  a  baulked  practical  joke,  commend  me  to 
one  which  was  to  have  been  played  by  three  officers 
in  the  4th  Hussars,  amongst  whom  was  my  friend 

4 


50   FOETY  YEAES  OF  A  SPOETSMAN'S  LIFE 

Wilson    T .      The    trio  conceived   the   briUiant 

idea  of  posting  down  to  the  west  of  England,  and 
visiting  the  house  of  a  certain  gentleman  well  dis- 
guised as  bum-bailif!s.  Their  scheme  need  not  have 
miscarried  had  it  not  been  disclosed  to  a  fourth 
party,  who  wired  down  to  the  intended  victim  warning 
him  that  three  notorious  London  cracksmen  were 
shortly  going  to  visit  his  house.  The  police  were 
put  on  their  guard,  and  directly  the  conspirators 
appeared  they  were  "  run  in,"  despite  all  remon- 
strances and  show  of  indignation.  Li  durance  vile 
too  were  they  kept  for  several  hours,  until  they  were 
able  to  prove  themselves  three  cavalry  officers. 

The  useful  art  of  self-defence  is  one  in  which  I 
tried  to  instruct  myself  early  in  life.  Even  the  most 
peaceably  inclined  people  admit  that  it  is  often  a 
really  desirable  one  ;  and  especially  is  this  the  case 
at  times  in  the  rough-and-tumble  of  the  racecourse. 
Every  man  ought  to  have  some  idea  of  how  to  defend 
himself  with  his  bare  fists,  and  above  all  of  how  to 
defend  ladies  who  may  be  in  his  company,  and  for 
whose  safety  he  is  therefore  responsible. 

Unfortunately  I  was  too  young  at  the  time  to  see 
the  Sayers  and  Heenan  fight,  though  I  had  a  good 
description  of  it  from  a  friend,  who  was  only  eleven 
years  old  at  the  time,  but  was  lucky  enough  to  be  pre- 
sent. With  an  enterprise  beyond  his  years  he  managed 
to  smuggle  himself  into  the  vehicle  in  which  his 
father  drove  from  Aldershot  to  see  the  great  fight, 
and,  arrived  at  the  scene  of  action,  a  kind  word  from 
a  gentleman  who  admired  his  spirit  got  him  in.  The 
Sayers  and  Heenan  fight,  so  far  as  I  know,  is  the  only 
record  of  a  man  fighting  with  a  broken  arm.     It  can 


SPOET   AND   SPORTSMEN  51 

certainly  be  done  with  a  broken  finger.  When  I  was 
cramming  at  Lendy's,  I  had  a  fight  lasting  for  an  hour 
and  a  half  with  a  waterman.  My  second  was  General 
— then  Captain — Sir  Owen  Lanyon,  who  was  at  that 
time  cramming  for  the  Staff  College.  After  ten 
minutes  or  thereabouts  my  finger  got  broken,  and 
for  an  hour  and  twenty  minutes  I  had  to  fight  on 
with  this  disablement.  Odds  of  three  and  four  to  one 
on  me  were  being  offered  when  the  police  stopped  the 
fight.  A  professional  prize-fighter  said  to  me  after- 
wards, "  When  your  finger  was  broken  you  ought 
to  have  hit  him  with  the  wrist  end  of  the  flat  of 
your  hand." 

At  the  time  of  this  fight  I  was  in  my  teens.  I  am 
not  conscious  of  having  been  the  aggressor  in  many 
of  the  encounters  in  which  it  has  been  my  lot  to  be  a 
principal  since  then,  though  frequently  enough  the 
first  actual  blow  has  come  from  me  ;  but  there  is 
certainly  no  denying  the  fact  that  I  have  been  in 
the  wars  a  great  number  of  times  since  that  bout  at 
Sunbury.  In  a  number  of  instances  hostilities  have 
been  initiated  by  a  heartily  expressed  desire  and 
intention  on  the  part  of  various  persons  who  have 
fancied  themselves  as  fighters  to  give  me  a  sound 
hiding  ;  and  people  who  talk  in  this  vein  are  often 
the  easiest  to  subdue,  as  they  are  inclined  as  a  rule 
to  quite  over-rate  their  own  powers  and  under-rate 
their  adversaries'. 

One  of  the  soundest  thrashings  I  ever  recollect, 
administered  by  ordinarily  a  non-fighting  man,  was 
on  Oare  Hill,  the  scene  in  past  years  of  a  review  of 
the  troops.  The  pugilists  were  a  burly  tramp  and 
St.  M ,  a  fellow  Green  Jacket  of  mine  who  now 


52   FOETY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

sports  the  Strawberry  Leaves.  The  tramp  was 
leathering  his  wife,  and  my  friend  bade  him  desist. 
Whereupon  the  man  turned  upon  the  intruder.     St. 

M ,  who  was  a  man  of  great  stature  and  strength, 

proceeded  to  administer  the  wife-beater  a  tremendous 
thrashing. 

St.  M was  perhaps  one  of  the  biggest  men  in 

the  Service  in  those  days,  and  he  had  several  tall 
brothers.  It  used  to  be  a  common  joke  in  the  regi- 
ment  to   say,    "  Here   come  thirty-one  feet   of   St. 

M ."    I  suppose  the  strongest  man  in  the  Army  in 

recent  times,  not  even  excluding  two  or  three  gigantic 
troopers  who  engaged  in  Homeric  hand-to-hand 
conflicts  at  Balaclava  and  Inkerman,  was  the  present 
Lord  Methuen's  father.  At  one  time  he  could,  it 
used  to  be  s-aid,  hold  out  Sir  Watkin  Wynne,  himself 
a  heavy  man,  at  arm's  length  like  a  dumb-bell. 
Lord  Methuen,  however,  seems  to  have  tried  this 
feat  once  too  often.  On  a  certain  occasion  he  at- 
tempted to  repeat  it  in  barracks,  and  as  a  result  the 
seats  of  three  pairs  of  overalls  went !  The  peer  had 
no  doubt  forgotten  that  he  was  getting  an  older  man 
and  Sir  Watkin  Wynne  a  heavier  one. 

I  was  married  in  the  autumn  of  1872,  and  for  a 
season  or  two  my  wife  and  I  lived  in  the  west  of 
Ireland.  On  the  Shannon  there  was  some  capital 
punt  shooting.  Wild  fowl  were  numerous,  and  the 
shooting  was  particularly  good,  chiefly  because  there 
were  only  a  very  few  guns  at  work.  Since  then  I 
beheve  sport  has  much  deteriorated,  owing  to  the 
great  increase  in  the  number  of  sportsmen  who 
repair  thither  every  season.  Though  I  have  done  a 
great  deal  of  ordinary  English  covert  shooting  in 


SPORT   AND   SPORTSMEN  53 

my  time,  I  have  always  preferred  the  mixed  and 
rougher  kind  of  sport  one  gets  in  wilder  districts. 
The  shooting  in  Ireland  at  this  period  was  good  all 
round,  and  I  enjoyed  some  particularly  good  wood- 
cock shooting  at  Lord  Inchequin's  fine  place,  Dromo- 
land  in  County  Clare.  What  the  bags  averaged 
I  am  scarcely  prepared  to  say,  not  having  made 
any  notes  about  them  at  the  time,  but  I  don't  think 
Bagot  and  myself  did  better  in  the  course  of  a  season's 
shooting  in  the  Mediterranean,  to  which  reference 
will  be  made  later. 

In  the  winter  of  1873-4,  from  our  house  in  the 
wilds  of  Clare,  we  did  a  certain  amount  of  fox- 
hunting. When  the  fox  took  to  the  hills  one  had 
often  to  get  off  one's  horse  and  lead  it,  or  hunt  on 
foot — a  form  of  sport  which  little  recommends  itself 
to  heavy  weights.  On  one  occasion  when  out  with 
Reeves'  hounds,  I  performed  what  the  field  was 
pleased  to  regard  as  a  sensational  exploit.  In  order 
to  save  the  life  of  a  deer,  which  was  close  upon  its 
death  struggle,  I  had  to  gallop  across  a  narrow 
arched  brick  footway  over  a  stream  which  separated 
us  from  the  hounds.  Nobody  else  could  have  fol- 
lowed, even  had  they  meditated  doing  so,  as  my 
horse  distributed  the  loose  bricks  right  and  left,  and 
practically  demolished  a  good  portion  of  the  footway. 
I  was  just  in  time  to  save  the  deer.  The  scene  of 
the  incident  was  close  to  Newmarket-on-Fergus. 

A  feat  in  horsemanship  such  as  this  usually  implies 
quite  as  much  intelligence  and  skill  in  the  animal 
as  in  the  rider.  It  is  extraordinary  indeed  what 
cleverness  a  good  horse  whose  blood  is  up  will  display 
when  he  is  called  upon  to  make  an  awkward  jump. 


54   FOKTY  YEAES  OF  A  SPOETSMAN'S  LIFE 

Out  one  day  with  the  East  Essex,  I  rode  my  chestnut 
mare  Cartridge — rather  a  famous  animal  in  the 
county — at  a  stile  on  the  other  side  of  which  was  a 
narrow  footbridge  across  the  lock  at  Springfield. 
She  took  it  without  hesitation.  There  was  a  second 
stile  a  few  yards  on  at  the  other  end  of  the  bridge  ; 
two  short  strides  brought  her  to  this,  and  over  she 
went  like  a  bird.  No  one  else  except  my  son  tried 
to  follow  me,  and  his  pony  refused.  It  was  certainly 
an  awkward  thing  getting  over  these  two  stiles  on 
either  side  of  the  narrow  lock  footbridge.  Most  of 
us  ride  for  a  fall  now  and  then.  What  on  earth  is 
the  use  of  going  out  hunting  if  one  is  going  to  ride 
only  at  obstacles  which  one  is  certain  to  surmount  ? 
Better  to  jog  along  the  high-road,  or  better  still  walk. 
The  most  tremendous  leap  I  ever  knew  a  horse 
take  was  out  with  the  Cheshire  hounds  at  Marbury 
in  1870.  A  fine  mare  I  was  riding  cleared  a  five- 
foot  fence  with  a  bound  that  covered  over  thirty-one 
feet.  We  measured  it  directly  afterwards,  and  it 
was  stated  at  the  time  to  be  the  second  best  jump 
in  point  of  length  on  record,  the  best  being  thirty- 
three  feet.  This  latter  jump,  however,  which  was 
performed  by  Chandler  at  Warwick,  is  open  to  much 
doubt.  After  the  horse  had  made  it,  his  rider  had 
to  finish  the  race,  weigh  in,  and  dress  before  taking 
any  measurements.  Meanwhile  several  spectators 
on  horseback  had  ridden  over  the  course.  It  is 
worthy  of  remark,  that  the  best  long  jumps  of  horses 
are  little  better  than  those  of  men.  Mr.  C.  B.  Fry, 
in  his  Oxford  days,  would  have  been  a  good  match 
against  some  fair  equine  performers  in  the  hunting 
field  and  racecourse.       There  is  this  difference  of 


SPORT   AND   SPORTSMEN  55 

course — that  a  horse  usually  takes  off  from  compara- 
tively rough  ground,  and  moreover  can  clear  height 
and  length  in  the  same  jump.  Good  jumps  are 
often  achieved  by  horses  over  hurdles.  Harold,  for 
instance,  schooHng  over  low  hurdles  once  at  Epsom, 
cleared  twenty-seven  feet.  Clean  jumps  of  twenty- 
four  and  twenty-five  feet  are  frequent. 

In  the  summer  of  1876  I  was  again  in  Ireland, 
this  time  bent  on  soldiering  as  well  as  sport.  I  joined 
the  Limerick  Artillery  Militia  for  its  annual  training, 
and  managed  whilst  engaged  in  this  occupation  to  be 
concerned  in  several  aquatic  adventures.  On  one 
occasion,  when  my  battery  was  practising  at  flags 
erected  on  floating  wooden  frames  beyond  Tarbet 
Lighthouse,  I  paddled  out  in  my  canoe  to  secure  a 
trophy  in  one  of  the  flags  which  had  been  hit.  When 
I  arrived,  however,  at  the  target  I  found  that  I  could 
not  get  near  enough  to  grasp  the  flag,  the  sea  being 
far  too  rough.  After  several  fruitless  attempts  I 
got  out  of  my  canoe,  and  swam  up  to  the  buoy.  I 
then  got  the  flag,  but,  turning  towards  the  shore, 
found  that  the  canoe  had  drifted  away,  and  was  quite 
out  of  reach.  It  looked  as  though  I  must  abandon 
the  flag,  and  get  back  to  shore  a  beaten  man.  But 
being  in  good  swimming  form  at  the  time  I  resolved 
to  try  and  swim  in,  holding  the  flag  and  knife  in  my 
teeth. 

Eventually,  after  a  hard  struggle  with  the  waves, 
I  reached  my  canoe  and  got  in  again.  Those  on  shore 
saw  the  empty  canoe,  and  feared  some  disaster.  So 
alarmed  was  Colonel  Vereker  that  he  started  at  a 
run  down  a  steep  incline  in  order  to  get  a  boat  and 
a  rescue  party.     He  was  a  corpulent  man,  and  having 


56   FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

once  started  at  this  rate  was  quite  unable  to  pull 
himself  up,  and  ended  at  a  tearing  pace,  which  sent 
the  whole  company  into  explosions  of  laughter.  Some 
averred  that  he  was  only  stopped  from  going  clean 
into  the  water  through  a  colhsion  with  the  lighthouse. 

On  November  15, 1876,  in  accordance  with  the  in- 
structions of  the  Duke  of  Cambridge,  the  bronze  medal 
of  the  Royal  Humane  Society  was  presented  to  me 
at  a  full-dress  parade  of  troops  at  Winchester.  I 
cannot  deny  that  the  occasion  was  a  proud  and  happy 
one  to  me,  though  of  course  I  was  well  aware  that  I 
did  nothing  more  than  any  man  worthy  the  name 
would  do  when  I  went  into  the  sea  at  Limerick  after 
a  drowning  man.  These  things,  in  a  slang  phrase, 
are  "  all  in  the  day's  work  "  :  only  heartily  I  wish  I 
had  had  more  opportunities  of  the  kind,  as  my  West 
Indian  experiences  have  given  me  great  confidence 
in  the  water. 

The  facts  in  connection  with  this  presentation 
were  as  follows  : — On  July  17,  1876,  I  was  in  charge 
of  the  regimental  bathing  parade  at  Tarbet,  where 
I  was  stationed  with  the  Artillery  Militia.  Infor- 
mation was  brought  to  me  that  a  man  was  drowning, 
having  been  caught  in  an  overmastering  current  by 
the  lighthouse  known  by  the  name  of  Tarbet  Race. 
I  repaired  to  the  spot,  and  found  that  the  man  was 
the  best  part  of  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  shore 
and  very  much  exhausted.  My  brother  was  making 
preparations  to  go  to  his  rescue,  but  my  position 
being  more  advantageous  I  was  able  to  reach  the 
poor  chap  first.  He  was  then,  though  a  fair  swim- 
mer, fairly  beat.  I  got  him  by  the  left  upper  arm, 
and  sustained  him  till  the  lifeboat  from  the  Coast- 


SPORT   AND   SPORTSMEN  57 

guard  station  came  at  last  to  the  rescue.  They  had 
launched  her  so  hurriedly  that  she  got  stove  in,  and 
when  she  reached  us  was  full  of  water.  The  man 
behaved  very  well  in  the  water,  and  obeyed  my 
directions,  which  greatly  facilitated  the  task  of  holding 
him  up  till  the  boat  came.  Thus  the  force  of  dis- 
cipline evidenced  itself  in  a  very  serviceable  manner. 

At  the  Winchester  presentation  Colonel  Newdegate 
said  some  uncommonly  pleasant  things  about  per- 
sonal bravery,  and  so  forth,  and  there  was  a  good 
deal  of  cheering.  This  was  the  more  gratifying  to 
me  in  that  it  came  from  my  old  regiment  the 
Rifles. 

The  last  opportunity  I  had  of  putting  my  swimming 
powers  to  practical  service  in  saving  life — or  in  this 
case  unfortunately  in  endeavouring  to  save  it — 
was  when  bathing  near  Maldon  in  the  Blackwater. 
My  attention  was  drawn  to  some  cries  for  help  on 
the  south  side  of  the  river,  and  being  in  mid-stream 
I  rowed  across  and  dived  in  as  near  as  I  could  ascertain 
to  the  spot  where  a  boy  had  disappeared  a  few 
minutes  before.  The  water  was  very  thick  and  I 
could  see  nothing,  so  came  up  for  breath,  and  then 
went  under  again.  I  repeated  the  operation  several 
times,  but  in  vain,  and  eventually  left,  feeling 
assured  that  life  must  be  extinct.  The  body  was 
recovered  some  little  time  after  at  low  tide.  At  the 
inquest  I  felt  it  only  right  to  talk  very  straight  about 
the  conduct  of  one  or  two  people  who  were  on  the 
spot  as  the  lad  disappeared,  and  made  no  attempt 
to  save  him.  The  jury  in  returning  a  verdict  of 
accidental  death  by  drowning  were  good  enough  to 
declare  formally  that  "  credit  was  due  to  Sir  Claude 


58   FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

de  Crespigny  for  his  unflagging  energy  and  prompti- 
tude in  attempting  to  rescue  the  lad." 

When  a  lad  of  fifteen  I  had  the  good  fortune  to 
save  a  man's  life  at  "  The  Hard  "  in  Alresford  parish. 
We  had  been  saihng  in  the  Colne,  when  I  jumped 
overboard  for  the  purpose  of  swimming  ashore.  My 
companion  could  not  swim  a  stroke,  but  he  followed 
me  promptly,  apparently  quite  unaware  that  he  would 
find  himself  out  of  his  depth.  It  was  rather  a  difficult 
business  to  lug  him  ashore,  but  I  eventually  suc- 
ceeded in  doing  so.  A  fisherman  saw  our  critical 
position  and  tried  to  come  to  the  rescue,  but  we  were 
safe  before  he  arrived. 


CHAPTER   III 

FOX-HUNTING   AND   OTHER   DELIGHTS 

WHEN  not  in  Ireland  with  the  Limerick  Artillery 
Militia  in  1876,  I  was  for  the  most  part  hunt- 
ing in  the  south  of  England.  During  this  and  the 
next  few  years  I  put  in  an  enormous  lot  of  riding  to 
hounds.  I  hunted  in  1876,  77,  78,  and  79  with 
the  following  packs :  Tedworth,  Luttrell,  South 
and  West  Wilts,  Essex,  Chiddingfold,  Lord  Leacon- 
field's,  Lord  Radnor's,  New  Forest,  Lord  Portman's, 
Vine,  H.  H.  and  Hursley ;  and  also  with  two  packs 
of  stag-hounds,  namely,  the  Devon  and  Somerset, 
and  the  New  Forest,  the  master  of  which  was  Sir 
Reginald  Graham,  the  son  of  that  fine  old  sportsman 
Sir  Bellingham  Graham,  and  father  of  Malise  Graham, 
of  the  16th  Lancers,  who  represented  England 
only  the  other  day  in  the  International  jumping 
contests  in  America.  In  addition  I  was  sometimes 
out  with  beagles  and  with  Lord  Pembroke's  and 
Mr.  Raikes's  harriers.  That  keen  sportsman,  the 
Reverend  W.  Awdry  of  Ludgershall,  kept  a  small 
pack  of  beagles  during  these  years.  I  used  to  go  out 
with  them,  and  occasionally  too  with  the  Hawking 
Club  at  Everley.     This  meant  hunting  at  times  four, 

59 


60   FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

five,  and  even  six  days  a  week,  and  it  entailed  some 
very  long  rides  to  meets.  There  was  a  tradition 
popular  amongst  my  friends  that  I  once  rode  sixty- 
six  miles  to  a  meet.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  rode  down 
to  the  New  Forest  from  my  place  in  Wiltshire  with 
the  object  of  exercising  my  right  of  voting  in  the 
Verderers  election,  and  by  way  of  killing  two  birds 
at  one  throw  put  in  a  day's  hunting.  This,  however, 
was  quite  eclipsed  by  a  performance  of  Lord  Queens- 
berry's.  After  hunting  all  day  with  Lord  Wemys's 
hounds  he  started  off  across  the  Cheviots  for  Kin- 
mount  on  the  Solway,  a  distance  of  one  hundred  and 
two  miles,  riding  most  of  the  way  on  the  sorriest  of 
posters,  and  finally,  having  arrived  home  at  2  a.m., 
hunted  his  hounds  the  same  day. 

The  severest  tall  that  I  ever  experienced  from  of! 
a  horse  was  in  the  hunting  field.  On  February  23, 
1878,  I  came  a  tremendous  cropper,  when  out  with 
the  Tedworth,  and  near  Penton  Lodge,  then  the 
property  of  Sir  William  Humphrey.  I  rode  at  a  gate 
which  I  thought  was  closed  all  right.  The  gate, 
however,  turned  out  to  be  open.  Down  we  came, 
an  awful  crash,  on  the  other  side,  and  right  on  some 
vile  cobble  stones  which  were  covered  with  treacherous 
moss.  My  arm  was  broken  very  badly  at  the  elbow, 
and  it  has  never  been  quite  straight  since.  To  make 
things  worse,  some  over-solicitous  spectators  tried  to 
drag  me  by  the  smashed  limb  into  Lady  Humphrey's 
carriage,  which  happened  to  be  near.  It  was  currently 
reported,  and  several  newspapers  have  persisted  in 
the  statement,  that  I  knew  the  gate  to  be  on  the 
swing.  That  was  not  so  ;  nor  was  I  aware  that 
there  were  cobble' stones  on  the  other  side. 


FOX-HUNTING   AND    OTHER   DELIGHTS   61 

Head-quarters  during  the  fox-hunting  period  were 
at  Durrington  in  Wiltshire,  and  the  Tedworth  was 
the  pack  most  easily  reached  from  that  point.  The 
praises  of  this  famous  pack,  hunted  of  old  by  the 
immortal  sportsman  Assheton  Smith,  have  been 
sounded  so  often  that  they  need  scaxcely  be  repeated 
here.  It  is  impossible,  however,  to  revert  to  those 
Durrington  days  without  saying  something  of  a  few 
of  the  men  who  then  formed  the  Tedworth  Hunt. 
First  and  foremost  to  the  mind  of  every  one  who 
regularly  rode  with  the  Tedworth  in  those  times  comes 
Jack  Fricker.  Old  Jack  was  quite  an  ideal  hunts- 
man. I  take  it  there  was  no  man  in  England  of  that 
day  who  more  thoroughly  understood  foxhounds  than 
he.  He  could  distinguish  by  tongue  most  of  the 
hounds  in  the  pack.  Certainly  he  knew  the  tongue 
of  any  hound  likely  to  be  in  the  van.  Jack  lived 
and  almost  died  in  his  breeches.  He  was  very  un- 
comfortable in  any  other  attire,  and  equally  out  of  his 
element  on  the  very  rare  occasions  when  he  was  com- 
pelled to  drive  instead  of  ride.  It  is  said,  however, 
that  he  was  surpassed  in  knowledge  of  hound  life  by 
his  predecessor  Carter,  of  whom  Parson  Gale  gave 
one  or  two  remarkable  reminiscences  in  a  little 
book  he  published  some  years  since.  "  Sir  Claude 
de  Crespigny,"  he  wrote,  "  had  resided  at  Durrington 
Manor  House  for  some  few  seasons,  and  whilst  there 
had  hunted  regularly  with  the  Tedworth  hounds. 
Some  time  after  he  had  left  I  received  a  letter  from 
him,  asking  me  if  I  could  find  out  from  old  George 
Carter  anything  respecting  a  certain  hound  which 
was  in  the  Duke  of  Grafton's  pack  at  the  time  he 
was  acting  as  his  huntsman,  and  might  possibly  have 


62   FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN^S  LIFE 

come  with  him  to  Tedworth.  Sir  Claude  was,  I 
beheve,  tracing  out  some  pedigrees  ;  at  all  events  he 
wanted  to  know  how  the  hound  in  question  was  bred. 
I  took  an  early  opportunity  of  mentioning  this  to 
my  old  friend,  and  he  said  at  once — 

Remember  him  ? — of  course  I  do.  He  were 
a  very  good  hound,  and  came  with  me  from  the 
Duke  of  Grafton's  to  Mr.  Smith's.' 

Can  you  tell  me,  old  friend,'  I  continued,  '  how 
he  was  bred  ?  ' 

Yes,'  replied  the  himtsman,  '  he  was  by  

out  of '  (I  cannot  myself  remember  the  names  of 

his  father  and  mother) ;  and  calling  to  his  daughter, 
he  told  her  to  look  into  his  bureau  where  he  kept 
his  old  papers,  etc.,  and  see  if  she  could  find  the 
hound  list  of  the  Grafton  of  such  and  such  a  year. 
The  girl  looked  for  the  list  and  found  it,  and  sure 
enough  the  pedigree  old  Carter  had  given  was 
perfectly  accurate." 

But  an  even  more  remarkable  instance  of  Carter's 
knowledge  of  homid  life  is  supplied  by  the  following. 
Parson  Gale  was  looking  after  a  hound  named 
Matchless  which  very  often  would  run  down  to  the 
old  huntsman's  cottage.  On  one  occasion  a  hound 
came  into  the  garden  and  commenced  baying  under 
the  window  of  the  bedroom  in  which  Carter  was 
lying  shortly  before  his  death.  He  bade  his  daughter 
— herself  "a  rare  good  girl  for  a  hound  " — to  go  see 
what  hound  it  was  baying.  She  looked  out  of  the 
window,  and  then  said,  "  Oh,  'tis  Matchless,  father, 
Mr.  Gale's  puppy."  "  I  tell  you  'tis  a  dog  hound," 
rejoined  the  old  fellow,  "for  I  know  the  note."  He 
was  as  usual  in  such  matters  correct.     It  was  a  brother 


FOX-HUNTING   AND   OTHER   DELIGHTS   63 

of  Matchless,  called  Monitor,  the  two  being  so  exactly- 
alike  that  the  girl  had  mistaken  one  for  the  other. 

Several  other  tales  about  this  huntsman  have  been 
told  often  enough  in  the  hunting  field,  originating 
without  doubt  from  Parson  Gale,  who  was  quite  the 
Boswell  of  Carter.  On  one  occasion  a  young  fellow, 
very  anxious  to  show  his  prowess,  came  cantering  up 
to  Carter,  taking  one  or  two  fences  on  his  way  with 
great  nonchalance,  his  mount  being  a  very  good  one. 
"  Nice  fencer,  isn't  he  ?  "  said  Poppinjay  to  Carter. 
"  Ahem,  hope  you  won't  want  it  by  and  by,  sir," 
was  the  stern  reply.  But  the  best  tale  of  all  is  told 
by  Parson  Gale,  who  accidentally  heard  Carter  remark 
in  an  undertone  concerning  one  of  Mrs.  Gale's  little 
girls,  whom  the  loving  mother  had  been  introducing  to 
him,  "  Nice  pup  :  pity  she  weren't  born  a  hound."  He 
was  horrified  when  he  discovered  that  he  had  been  over- 
heard, and  proceeded  to  offer  many  sincere  apologies. 

It  was  always  Assheton  Smith's  ambition  to  hunt 
in  his  eightieth  year.  Carter,  though  he  resigned 
the  office  of  huntsman  to  the  Tedworth  at  the  age  of 
seventy-three — not  without  a  kind  of  protest — did 
actually  hunt  after  he  had  turned  eighty,  so  that  he 
beat  his  master  in  this  respect.  Carter's  admiration 
for  Assheton  Smith  does  not  appear  to  have  been 
absolutely  unquaUfied.  On  several  occasions  he 
found  himself  unable  to  approve  of  the  master's 
active  and  peremptory  orders,  and  after  his  death 
thought  the  Tedworth  would  still  survive  and  greatly 
flourish,  which  it  certainly  did.  Carter  was  an  ab- 
stemious man,  and  a  God-fearing  one  too,  we  have 
been  told.  There  resided  at  one  time  in  the  Tedworth 
country  a  man  who  was  well  endowed  with  this 


64   FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

world *s  goods,  and  had  great  advantages  in  the  matter 
of  position  and  family  connections.  But  he  was 
avoided  by  the  county  people,  and  had  few  friends. 
Once  he  tried  to  find  a  companion  in  Carter,  who 
felt  compelled  to  cut  short  his  advances  with  these 
words — "  I  don't  drink,  I  don't  smoke,  and  I  don't 
tell  lies.     So  I'm  no  use  to  you,  sir." 

Two  of  the  keenest  fox-hunters  I  ever  met  were 
clergymen,  one  this  Parson  Gale,  and  the  other  the 
Rev.  W.  Awdry.  Both  hunted  regularly  with  the 
Tedworth,  as  did  one  or  two  other  gentlemen  of  the 
cloth.  With  Awdry,  who  was  a  good  all-round  sports- 
man, always  went  Mrs.  Awdry,  herself  far  better 
versed  in  fox-hunting  than  most  men  who  ride  to 
hounds.  Awdry  could  really  distinguish  by  tongue 
the  leading  hounds  of  the  Tedworth  almost  as  well 
as  Jack  Fricker  or  even  Carter.  "  How  we  all  used 
to  love  hunting,"  he  wrote  once  in  recalling  those 
Tedworth  times,  "  when  we  knew  the  names,  breeding, 
and  principal  peculiarities  of  every  hound  in  the  pack." 

Parson  Gale  could  of  course  well  recollect  Assheton 
Smith.  Hard  by  Fosbury,  in  the  Tedworth  country, 
there  is  a  very  steep  and  sudden  descent  into  farm- 
land. The  parson  once  seeing  me  ride  rather  furiously, 
as  it  appeared  to  him,  down  this  place,  complimented 
me  upon  the  achievement.  He  declared  that  in  all 
his  days  he  had  only  seen  one  man  do  it,  and  do  it 
with  a  loose  rein,  and  that  was  Assheton  Smith.  As 
a  matter  of  fact  I  could  not  claim  to  have  emulated 
or  rivalled  Assheton  Smith  in  this  matter,  because 
my  horse  took  me  down  before  I  had  time  to  realize 
the  position  ;  once  started  it  was  in  any  case  im- 
possible to  draw  up  till  the  bottom  of  the  hill  was 


FOX-HUNTING   AND    OTHER   DELIGHTS    65 

reached.  I  am  told,  by  the  way,  that  a  Welsh  pony 
belonging  to  Mr.  A.  W.  Dewar — the  owner  of  Doles 
Wood — would  alone  amongst  the  Tedworth  Hunt 
take  this  and  other  neighbouring  hills  without  the 
slightest  hesitation,  and  at  the  steepest  point. 

The  question  of  whether  or  no  a  clergyman  ought 
to  hunt  has  long  been  hotly  disputed.  For  my  part 
I  should  be  content,  if  amongst  my  various  vocations 
I  had  ever  donned  the  cloth,  to  abide  by  the  view 
of  a  parson  who  does  not  hunt  himself,  but  is  none 
the  less  perfectly  tolerant  of  it  in  his  brethren — Mr. 
Baring  Gould.  He  writes  concerning  this  matter, 
"  Why  not  ?  Why  should  not  the  parson  go  with 
the  hounds  ?  A  more  fresh  and  invigorating  pursuit 
is  not  to  be  found,  nor  one  in  which  he  is  brought 
more  in  contact  with  his  fellow  men.  There  was  a 
breezy  goodness  about  many  a  hunting  parson  of  old 
times  that  was  in  itself  a  sermon,  and  was  one  on  the 
topic  that  healthy  amusement  and  Christianity  go 
excellently  well  together. 

Occasionally  the  hunting  parson,  it  must  be 
admitted,  is  rather  handicapped  in  the  pursuit  of 
sport  by  the  obligations  of  his  profession.  Two 
instances  of  this  occur  to  me  relating  to  clergymen 

I  have  often  hunted  with.     "  How's   X doing 

now  ?  "  inquired  a  friend  of  a  hunting  parson  during 
a  check.  "  Oh,  well  enough,"  was  the  reply.  **  On 
Monday,  Wednesday  and  Thursday  we  had  capital 
sport.     To-day   too   he  will  be   having  good   sport 

no  doubt  with  the  C .     Then  as  to  to-morrow — 

well,  I  haven't  heard  what  his  arrangements  are  for 
that  day."  "  Oh,"  observed  an  attentive  and  rather 
shocked  listener,  "  but  surely  he  will  have  his  duties 

5 


66   FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

to  attend  to  to-morrow.  He  has  a  burial."  "  Well/' 
replied   the   parson,    gallantly   sticking   up    for   his 

brother  clergyman,  "  he  can  get  a  curate  out  of  A 

to  do  that,  you  know,  easily  enough,  for  a  sovereign 
or  so." 

On  one  occasion  the  hounds  I  was  out  with  had 
a  clinking  run  hard  by  a  churchyard  where  a  well- 
known  sporting  parson  was  conducting  a  burial 
service.  Afterwards  I  tried  to  describe  the  run  to 
my  clerical  friend,  but  cutting  me  short  he  painted 
it  himself  in  glowing  colours.  He  was  ready  with 
the  name  of  every  spinney  we  touched,  and  could  tell 
which  was  the  leading  hound  at  every  portion  of  the 
run.  Whilst  performing  his  duties  at  the  open 
grave  he  had  heard  the  hounds  running,  and  knowing 
every  yard  of  the  country  was  able  to  diagnose  the 
sport — as  the  hounds  ran  in  a  semicircle — at  least 
as  accurately  as  I  who  had  been  there  from  start  to 
finish.  Imagine  the  restraint  which  he  must  have 
exercised  over  himself  whilst  reading  the  service  ! 
— the  wonder  was  that  he  didn't  rush  off  after  the 
hounds  before  his  duties  were  completed. 

There  was  not  much  fencing  with  the  Tedworth 
out  of  the  Pewsey  Vale  district,  but  we  often  got 
grand  runs  ;  whilst  as  for  the  hounds,  they  were  in 
the  time  of  Jack  Fricker's  huntsmanship  probably  as 
fine  as  any  in  the  country.  Often  enough  in  the  case 
of  a  meet  in  an  out-of-the-way  spot,  the  field  was 
limited  to  about  half-a-dozen  of  us  or  even  less  in 
the  afternoon.  The  late  Duke  of  WelHngton  was 
a  well-known  figure  of  the  Tedworth  Himt  in  those 
good  times,  and  some  time  since  his  Grace  was 
affectionately  recalling  to  me  the  sport  we  used  to 


FOX-HUNTING   AND    OTHER   DELIGHTS    67 

enjoy.  Sir  William  Humphrey  was  another  familiar 
figure  during  these  years,  and  before  she  came  by  a 
very  nasty  accident  Lady  Humphrey  was  known  as 
one  of  the  most  excellent  horsewomen  of  the  hunt. 
Penton  Lodge  was  Sir  William's  Hampshire  residence. 
It  afterwards  passed  into  the  hands  of  a  Mr.  Moon, 
who  was  a  regular  "  Jubilee,"  getting  through  his 
thousands  in  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time. 

It  is  curious  how  entirely  undeveloped  is  the  bump 
of  locality  in  some  people.  Once  when  out  with 
the  Tedworth  we  came  upon  Penton  Lodge,  which 
everybody  recognized  save  the  owner  thereof.  "  Now 
that's  a  nice  place,  and  how  well  situated,"  said  Sir 
William  ;  "  what's  the  name  of  that  place  ?  "  He 
had  evidently  never  viewed  Penton  from  that  par- 
ticular aspect  before. 

I  have  already  referred  to  a  bad  fall  I  had  out 
with  the  Tedworth  through  riding  at  a  gate  which 
was  more  or  less  on  the  swing.  I  was  driven  to  it 
by  the  behaviour  of  my  horse,  who  had  gone  through 
instead  of  over  a  gate  a  short  while  previously.  My 
brother  and  I  were  both  riding  greys,  and  I  recollect 
being  much  tickled  when,  after  I  was  bandaged  up, 
he  told  me  that  in  his  agitation  and  hurry  he  had 
ridden  ofi  on  my  horse  to  enlist  the  services  of  a  doctor, 
and  had  not  noticed  the  mistake  till  he  had  gone 
some  distance. 

A  tremendous  run  we  once  had  with  the  Tedworth 
from  Sir  John  Astley's  place  at  Everley  to  Marl- 
borough— the  fox  was  killed  close  to  the  London  road 
just  outside  the  town — may  still  be  remembered 
by  some  members  of  the  hunt.  One  gentleman 
had   the  use  of   three  horses,   but  was  not  in  at 


68   FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN^S  LIFE 

the  death.  Sir  WiUiam  Humphrey  returned  home 
before  the  bitter  or  rather  glorious  end,  so,  intending 
to  do  him  a  good  turn,  I  wired  to  Penton  Lodge, 
"  Killed  our  fox."  Lady  Humphrey  opened  this 
telegram  before  Sir  William  had  got  home,  and 
directly  she  saw  the  first  word  in  it  rushed  to  the 
conclusion  that  it  must  refer  to  her  husband,  and 
sustained  a  severe  shock.  "  Killed  "  is  certainly  an 
indiscreet  word  to  begin  a  telegram  with. 

A  remarkable  character  in  the  Tedworth  country, 
and  a  most  dogged  old  customer,  was  Caleb  Simonds, 
the  Savernake  Forest  keeper.  A  fox  went  to  earth 
during  the  cubbing  season  in  Savernake,  and  Simonds 
started  to  dig.  But  the  ground  was  very  sandy,  and 
at  length  Jack  retired  with  his  hounds.  It  was 
eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  Simonds  began 
to  dig.  He  declared  he  would  not  budge  from  that 
earth  until  he  had  dislodged  the  fox.  As  good  as 
his  word,  he  dug  on  till  ten  o'clock  at  night,  when 
at  length  he  came  upon  his  quarry. 

Simonds  was  as  fearless  as  he  was  dogged.  Hear- 
ing shots  fired  near  his  cottage  at  Bedwin  Brails  on 
a  winter's  night  he  went  out  in  shirt  and  trousers  with 
only  a  flail  in  his  hand.  Soon  he  came  across  three 
armed  poachers,  and  informed  them  that  they 
would  have  to  come  along  with  him.  At  first  they 
were  inclined  to  surrender,  believing  that  the  keeper 
who  thus,  though  unarmed,  boldly  accosted  them 
had  a  force  behind  him.  But  finding  out  that  he 
was  alone  one  of  them  made  a  murderous  assault  on 
him.  Simonds  with  a  blow  of  his  flail  killed  one  of 
his  assailants  on  the  spot.  The  other  two  then 
surrendered,  and  were  marched  off  by  the  old  keeper. 


FOX-HUNTING   AND    OTHER   DELIGHTS    69 

One  of  the  most  awkward  spots,  by  the  way,  for 
hounds  to  get  at  I  ever  saw  a  fox  resort  to  in  extremity 
was  a  culvert  at  Savernake.  The  careful  huntsman 
hesitated  to  let  his  hounds  go  after  the  fox,  lest  they 
should  be  unable  to  turn  when  fairly  in  this  drain. 
Whilst  we  were  waiting  and  wondering  what  could 
be  done,  a  sweep  with  his  bundle  of  implements  came 
up.  He  asked  whether  it  was  a  fox  we  wanted  to 
dislodge.  "  What  else  do  you  think  it  could  be  ?  " 
inquired  Jack  with  scorn.  The  sweep  said  he  would 
have  the  fox  out,  and  fitted  together  his  rods.  He 
then  inserted  them,  with  a  dexterous  twist  caught 
Beynard  in  the  jacket,  and  dragged  him  out  in  no 
time.  That  is  probably  the  single  instance  of  a 
sweep's  rods  being  used  in  fox-hunting. 

A  more  unusual  resort  of  a  hunted  fox,  however, 
was  witnessed  by  those  out  with  the  East  Essex 
some  years  ago.  The  fox  was  found  in  a  covert 
north-west  of  my  Essex  house.  Champion  Lodge, 
and  running  under  our  window  made  for  Goldhanger 
Creek  on  the  Blackwater — a  real  good  point.  There 
I  espied  him  crouching  on  a  small  salting  two  hundred 
and  fifty  yards  or  thereabouts  from  the  river  wall. 
Of  course  the  hounds  could  neither  view  nor  wind 
him.  I  accordingly  swam  out  to  his  coign  of  van- 
tage with  the  whole  pack  after  me.  Finder,  a  big 
black  and  white  stallion  hound  I  had  from  Jack 
Fricker,  was  first  up,  and  the  two  leading  hounds 
drowned  poor  Charlie.  I  at  once  proceeded  to  dive, 
and  after  some  rather  exhausting  struggles  recovered 
his  carcass,  which  the  hounds  broke  up  on  the  salting. 

Another  incident  with  the  East  Essex  pack  may 
perhaps  be  of  some  little  interest  to  hunting  men. 


70  FOETY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

Once  when  the  hounds  were  running  I  deemed  it 
well  to  follow  for  a  while  along  the  line  of  the  Great 
Eastern  Railway,  being  afraid  of  losing  them  unless 
I  took  this  course.  Before  very  long  I  saw  a  train 
coming,  and  called  out  to  an  official  who  was  near 
to  open  the  gate.  He  refused,  as  it  was,  he  declared, 
contrary  to  rules.  There  was  no  time  to  stop  and 
argue  with  the  man,  so  I  managed  to  coax  my  horse 
over  the  signalling  wires,  and  then  dashed  him  over 
some  posts  and  rails  alongside  the  gate.  Glancing 
round  when  these  were  successfully  negotiated,  I 
saw  that  we  had  got  over  not  a  moment  too  soon. 
It  had  been  rather  a  ticklish  position,  though  I  was 
speedily  out  of  it. 

Everleigh  was  Sir  John  Astley's  Wiltshire  seat, 
though  in  my  time  he  never  hunted  with  the  Ted- 
worth.  By  the  death  of  Sir  John,  or  to  give  him 
his  far  more  familiar  name  the  *'  Mate,"  I  lost  one  of 
my  oldest  and  best  friends.  Very  fond  of  his  prac- 
tical joke,  he  once,  at  one  of  his  "  sing-song  nights," 
played  rather  a  severe  one  on  me.  I  got  very  sleepy 
after  the  dinner,  and  the  fumes  of  smoke  finally 
sent  me  of!  into  a  profound  slumber.  The  Mate 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  painting  me  a 
moustache  with  a  burnt  champagne  cork.  My  son 
and  a  friend  who  were  present  permitted  it  with 
perhaps  some  misgivings.  They  would  certainly 
have  allowed  no  other  man  but  Sir  John  Astley  to 
take  the  liberty.  Of  course  I  was  made  to  look 
distinctly  ridiculous,  and  to  add  to  the  absurdity 
some  one  tried  to  wake  me  up,  saying,  "  De  Cres- 
pigny,  do  you  know  you  have  a  moustache  now  ?  " 
I  only  half  woke  up,  and  murmured,  "  Proper  thing 


p.  70] 


SIB    JOHN    ASTLEY. 
("  The  Mate." 


FOX-HUNTING   AND    OTHER   DELIGHTS    71 

too  for  a  cavalry  officer."  Afterwards  I  had  to  retire, 
and  wash  off  the  burnt  cork — quite  a  long  business. 
But  it  was  impossible  to  take  umbrage  at  anything 
the  old  Mate  did  in  the  way  of  a  practical  joke.  He 
could  have  played  any  number  on  me  with  impunity. 

All  the  years  I  knew  Sir  John  intimately,  I  never 
but  once  saw  him  "  down  on  his  luck."  That  was 
at  Stockbridge  Races  many  years  ago.  He  was 
frightfully  depressed  for  a  day  or  so  on  that  occasion 
— I  knew  not  why — but  the  cloud  soon  passed  com- 
pletely by.  The  Mate  did  undoubtedly  bet  at  times 
in  large  sums  of  money.  Once  I  recollect  having  a 
modest  fiver  with  him  at  Stockbridge  over  some 
event  or  other.  I  lost.  Meeting  him  on  the  course 
the  next  day  I  at  once  proposed  to  settle.  Not  having 
the  exact  sum  I  asked  for  change.  He  put  his  hand 
in  his  breast-coat  pocket  and  drew  out  an  enormous 
packet  of  bank-notes — thousands  of  pounds  worth, 
it  struck  me. 

It  was  owing  to  Whyte  Melville  that  I  changed 
the  venue  for  a  little  while  from  Hampshire  and 
Wiltshire  packs  to  the  North  Devon  and  Somerset. 
I  never  saw  so  much  of  that  accomplished  writer  as 
I  should  have  wished,  but  what  I  did  confirmed  me 
in  my  opinion,  derived  from  his  books,  that  he  was 
a  perfect  gentleman  and  a  true  sportsman.  Many 
people  consider  that  his  glowing  panegyrics  of  the 
sport  to  be  obtained  in  hunting  the  wild  deer 
in  Devon  and  Somerset  were  altogether  overdone. 
Certainly  some  of  the  runs  described  in  one  or  two  of 
his  works — notably  that  run  in  Katerfelto,  when  the 
stag  was  finally  brought  to  bay  at  Watersmeet — seem 
incredible.     The   opportunity   occurring,   I   put   the 


72   FOETY  YEAKS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

question  to  Whyte  Melville  whether  such  runs 
actually  took  place  in  the  hunting  of  the  red  deer. 
*'  Make  no  mistake,"  said  he,  "  they  sometimes  are 
undeniably  good/'  So,  soon  after  that  I  set  out  on 
horseback  to  the  West. 

The  Devon  and  Somerset  yielded  me  fair  but  not 
exceptional    sport.     One    adventure    not    connected 
with  hunting,   though  resultant  therefrom,   I  have 
often  thought  over  since  ;   it  was  of  the  kind  that 
are  not  easily  forgotten.     Leading  my  mare  home 
one  evening  into  the  town  of  Dunster,  my  attention 
was  attracted  by  a  woman  who  came  rushing  out 
of  a  house  hard  by,  and  collided  with  me  in  her  wild 
flight.     A  man  came  across  the  road  in  pursuit,  and 
struck   the   fugitive   with   violence.     I   called   upon 
him  to  instantly  desist,  whereupon  he  turned  upon 
me  with  much  savagery.     I  had  scarcely  let  go  my 
mare,    who,    being   fatigued,    stood   still,    before   he 
assailed  me.     So  sudden  was  the  onslaught  that  I 
did  not  think  of  dropping  my  hunting  crop,  which 
I  held  in  my  right  hand  as  I  encountered  his  blows. 
I  was  not  conscious  of  being  particularly  flustered,  or 
of   defending  myself   unskilfully,  but  for  all  that  I 
soon  found  that  I  was  getting  all  the  worst  of  it. 
He  seemed  to  get  with  ease  through  my  guard,  and 
to  be  raining  in  terrific  blows.     It  was  too  dark  to 
see  properly  the  exact  method  of  his  attack,   but 
when  I  found  blood  flowing  freely  from  several  cuts 
on  the  head  I  concluded — not  a  moment  too  soon — 
that  there  was  foul  play   somewhere.     I   therefore 
landed  him  a  blow  on  the  side  of  the  head  with  my 
crop,  and  he  dropped  like  a  stone  in  the  road.     I 
then  discovered  his  secret  power,  and  the  instrument 


FOX-HUNTING   AND   OTHER   DELIGHTS    73 

with  which  these  strange  and  telUng  blows  had  been 
administered.  He  held  in  his  hand  a  big  leather 
trace  with  a  buckle  that  had  cut  me  like  a  knife. 
How  effectively  the  author  of  Lorna  Doone,  who  has 
so  picturesquely  described  the  encounters  of  John 
Ridd  and  other  west  countrymen,  could  have  dealt 
with  this  incident !  There  was  something  distinctly 
out  of  the  common  in  this  short  and  sharp  struggle — 
the  place,  the  fast-waning  light,  and  above  all  the 
mysterious  blows  combining  to  impart  to  it  a  weird 
element.  When  afterwards  the  facts  of  the  case 
were  brought  to  the  notice  of  the  police  sergeant, 
he  told  me  I  had  had  a  narrow  shave.  The  man, 
who,  by  the  way,  was  in  liquor,  possessed  immense 
strength,  being  a  match  for  any  two  in  the  district. 
"  If  he  had  closed  with  you,  sir,"  quoth  the  sergeant, 
"  nothing  could  have  saved  you."  He  added  the 
information,  that  when  not  driving  the  coach  to 
Ilfracombe,  the  fellow  was  leathering  his  wife's 
lovers.  "  We  constantly  have  to  lock  him  up,"  said 
the  sergeant,  "  but  it  takes  me  and  two  of  my  men 
to  do  it." 

Whilst  living  at  Durrington — which  I  often  used 
to  find  from  twenty  to  twenty-five  miles  distant  at 
the  end  of  a  long  day  with  the  Tedworth  ! — I  would 
sometimes  pay  more  than  flying  visits  to  the  New 
Forest,  where  there  was  excellent  shooting  with  nice 
mixed  bags,  and  hunting.  Captain  Frank  Lovell, 
a  fine  horseman,  was  out  two  days  a  week  with  his 
fifteen  couple  or  so  of  hounds,  and  some  of  the  runs 
with  that  pack  have  not  inaptly  been  compared  with 
hard  bursts  with  the  Devon  and  Somerset.  A  nice 
horsewoman  was  Miss  Alma ,  then  a  well-known 


74   FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

figure  in  New  Forest  fox-hunting  circles.  Smart 
too  and  supercilious  with  Cockney  sportsmen  was 
Miss  Alma.  Such  a  sportsman  one  day  when  the 
hounds  were  at  fault  imagined  he  had  found  the  slot 
of  the  buck.  He  held  up  his  hat  to  Miss  Alma,  who 
rode  up.  Now  what  he  had  really  seen  was  the  slot 
of  a  pig,  which  to  the  uninitiated  eye  closely  resem- 
bles that  of  a  buck.  "  Pig  !  "  exclaimed  the  young 
lady,  looking  hard  at  him,  and  instantly  rode  off. 

Occasionally  I  used  to  go  out  with  the  Hawking 
Club,  though  in  no  respect  proficient  in  the  art  of 
falconry.  The  old  Hawking  Club  came  into  existence 
in  the  year  1864.  In  the  previous  year  the  Hon. 
Charles  Duncombe  had  done  a  good  deal  of  rook 
hawking  on  the  Wiltshire  downs,  with  Barr  as  his 
falconer.  The  sport  became  so  popular  amongst 
some  of  the  residents  in  the  district,  that  it  was 
found  quite  practicable  to  form  a  club,  which  took 
over  the  management  of  the  hawks.  Amongst  the 
original  members  of  the  club  were  Lord  Lilford,  one 
of  the  greatest  authorities  on  British  birds,  and 
author  of  the  monumental  work  thereon,  and  the 
Maharajah  Dhuleep  Singh.  But  in  after-years 
the  club  flourished  chiefly  owing  to  the  exertions  of 
the  Hon.  Gerald  Lascelles,  who  was  known  as  one  of  the 
foremost,  if  not  the  foremost  authority  on  Hawking 
in  the  country.  His  work  on  the  subject  is  of  course 
indispensable  to  those  who  desire  to  devote  them- 
selves to  this  decidedly  interesting,  if  not  intensely 
exciting,  form  of  sport.  Mr.  Lascelles  succeeded  Mr. 
Duncombe  in  the  Seventies  as  secretary  and  manager 
of  the  old  Hawking  Club. 

Mr.  Lascelles  has  given  us  some  particulars  con- 


FOX-HUNTING   AND    OTHER   DELIGHTS    75 

cerning  the  number  of  head  of  quarry  killed  during 
recent  seasons  by  the  club.  The  first  of  these  records 
is  contained  in  his  own  work  on  the  subject  in  the 
Badminton  Library.  In  1887  the  total  bag  was  576 
head,  out  of  which  the  greatest  number  was  com- 
posed of  rooks  ;  but  there  were  also  over  a  hundred 
partridges,  together  with  a  sprinkling  of  other  birds, 
and  over  a  hundred  rabbits  killed.  The  club 
being  a  travelling  one,  is  able  to  include  on  its  list 
upwards  of  a  hundred  grouse  killed  in  Scotland. 
Subsequently  it  did  not  go  in  for  any  game  hawking  in 
Scotland,  and  moreover,  as  it  has  not  kept  a  goshawk 
of  late,  the  returns  are  not  quite  so  large  as  formerly. 
"  I  think,"  wrote  Mr.  Lascelles  some  years  ago,  "  that 
more  people  take  up  hawking  than  formerly,  but  it 
can  never  become  universally  popular,  because  the 
greater  part  of  the  country  is  enclosed,  and  but  few 
people  can  follow  the  sport  at  their  own  homes, 
whereas  at  one  time  most  people  could  do  so.  It  is 
perhaps  the  most  scientific  and  difficult  of  all  sports." 
Hawking  has  this  advantage — it  can  be  followed 
all  the  year  round,  which  is  the  case  with  so  very 
few  of  our  sports  and  games. 

During  this  hunting  period  with  the  Tedworth, 
New  Forest,  and  other  packs,  I  was  rarely  present 
at  steeplechases,  save  in  the  capacity  of  a  spectator. 
I  took  part  in  one  rather  memorable  meeting,  how- 
ever, on  April  5,  1877.  This  was  the  Beaufort  Hunt 
at  Dauntsey,  near  Chippenham.  Though  not  quite 
so  bad  as  Hurst  Park  course,  round  which  two 
'Varsity  Blues  double-sculled  during  the  great  flood  of 
1894,  the  scene  of  the  Duke's  annual  meeting  was  so 
much  under  water  that  we  could  not  have  aspired 


76   FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

to  get  round  without  swimming  our  horses,  so  the 
course  had  to  be  altered  on  the  very  morning  of  the 
races.  I  rode  a  mare  called  Countess,  with  whom  I 
hunted  with  the  Tedworth.  But  she  was  not  much 
good  in  deep  ground,  and  fell  with  me  when  about 
half  way  round. 

The  racing,  as  the  name  of  the  meeting  implies, 
was  confined  to  hunters,  and  I  cannot  say  that  it 
was  of  a  very  sensational  character.  But  there  were 
some  excellent  riders  taking  part  in  the  meeting  ; 
amongst  them  Archie  Miles,  a  really  good  man  to 
hounds.  My  mare  Countess,  by  the  way,  came  from 
that  favourite  sportsman.  Fog  Rowlands,  about  whom 
many  of  us  have  pleasant  recollections. 

The  Durrington  district  was  very  handy  for 
Stockbridge  ;  I  attended  the  pleasant  meetings  there 
pretty  regularly,  and  a  little  later  on  sometimes  had 
a  mount,  though  flat  racing  has  been  even  less  my 
metier  in  England  than  it  was  in  India.  Proposed 
by  that  grand  old  sailor,  the  late  Admiral  Rous, 
and  seconded  by  the  late  Lord  Portsmouth,  I  was 
elected  a  member  of  the  Bibury  Club,  and  enjoyed 
excellent  sport  and  conviviality  there. 

At  times  there  used  to  be  some  rough  company 
at  Stockbridge.  Once,  with  several  members  of  the 
Bibury  Club,  amongst  them  Lord  Marcus  Beresford 
and  Sir  John  Astley,  I  was  dining  in  the  coffee-room 
of  the  Grosvenor.  Suddenly  a  most  detestable 
odour  arose,  which  quite  put  us  off  our  dinner. 
What  on  earth  could  it  be  ?  Whilst  we  were  won- 
dering a  raid  was  made  on  the  door  leading  from  the 
street  to  the  entrance-hall  by  a  handful  of  roughs, 
who  evidently  came  to  lay  their  hands  on  every  article 


FOX-HUNTING   AND    OTHER   DELIGHTS    77 

they  could  find  worth  carrying  away.  Marcus  and 
I  rushed  to  the  door  and  managed  to  keep  these 
fellows  at  bay.  They  could  not  do  very  much 
against  us,  as  the  passage  was  narrow  and  we  quite 
filled  between  us  the  doorway.  Great  sport  we  had, 
both  of  us  managing  to  work  a  good  deal  of  havoc 
amongst  the  intruders.  How  it  all  comes  back  to 
me  !  At  length  the  roughs,  getting  better  than  they 
gave,  retired,  several  of  them  with  more  or  less  broken 
heads.  I  had  just  got  rid  of  one  of  my  aggressors, 
and  was  rearranging  my  collar  and  tie,  which  had 
got  misplaced,  when  old  Peter  Crawshaw  of  all  men 
in  the  world  came  up,  and  intimated  that  the  man 
on  the  ground  was  a  particular  friend  of  his.  It 
looked  as  though  I  should  now  have  to  do  battle  with 
Peter,  but  taking  a  second  look  he  discovered  that 
he  had  made  a  mistake,  and  the  matter  ended  in 
laughter. 

The  appalling  odour  which  had  put  us  off  our 
dinner  was  now  accounted  for.  It  seemed  that 
one  of  these  would-be  looters  had  managed  to  pass 
the  porter  and  waiters  and  to  find  his  way  into  our 
room.  There  he  proceeded  to  break  a  bottle  of 
assafcetida,  in  the  vain  hope  that  its  smell  would 
clear  the  room,  and  so  enable  him  and  his  fellows  to 
make  a  clean  sweep  of  any  valuables  therein.  The 
disappointed  rogues  tried  on  the  same  game  again 
higher  up  the  street.  They  ended  up  the  day  in 
Andover  Gaol. 

The  Bibury  Club  has  always  been  a  very  exclusive 
one.  I  recollect  a  candidate  against  whom  no  word 
seems  to  have  been  breathed,  being  "  pilled "  in 
a  really  extraordinary  fashion.     This  candidate  was 


78   FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

Lord ,  grandson  of  a  great  and  rather  notorious 

lawyer.  It  happened  that  when  his  name  came  up 
neither  proposer  nor  seconder   was   present.     Lord 

was  not  a  regular  racing  man,  and  nobody  in 

the  room  seems  to  have  known  anything  at  all  about 
him.  His  name  was  received  with  ominous  silence, 
and  he  was  rejected.  I  was  completely  mystified, 
and  whispered  to  the  Duke  of  Hamilton,  the  President, 

"  Why  has  Lord been  pilled  V     "  Must  have 

been  mistaken  for  his  grandfather  !  "  was  the  reply. 
Had  either  proposer  or  seconder  been  present,  Lord 

would  surely  have  been  elected,  for  there  was 

nothing  against  him. 

The  late  Lord  Portsmouth  was  to  be  seen  regularly 
at  Stockbridge  meetings  at  this  period.  He  was  a 
rare  good  fox-hunter,  and  indeed  a  rare  good  fellow 
generally.  Horse-racing  was  not  his  favourite  pur- 
suit, and  it  was  therefore  not  very  extraordinary 
perhaps  to  find  him  once  at  Stockbridge  taking 
evident  interest  in  an  animal  which  looked  quite  out 
of  its  element  in  the  company  of  thoroughbreds.  I 
remarked  on  the  poor  quality  of  this  beast,  and  was 
tickled  by  his  reply,  "  Yes  ;  but  it  would  do  very 
nicely  for  my  second  whip.''  It  is  not  often  you 
find  a  man  engaged  in  spotting  hunters  at  a  race 
meeting  like  Stockbridge. 

It  was  just  about  the  time  when  I  settled  at 
Durrington  that  Sandown  Park  was  started,  and  I 
did  not  miss  many  of  the  first  meetings.  It  is  only 
fair  to  say  that  the  credit  of  starting  this  most 
popular  course  belongs  largely  to  Lord  Charles  Ker, 
though  no  doubt  plenty  of  credit  also  attaches  to  those 
who,  since  his  connection  with  Sandown  ceased,  have 


FOX-HUNTING   AND    OTHER   DELIGHTS    79 

taken  a  great  part  in  the  work  of  making  it  one  of  the 
most   successful   and   paying   racing  institutions   in 
the    country.      The   site   was,   I    beheve,   originally 
pointed  out  to  Ker  by  the  late  Mr.  J.  Milward.     He 
felt  so  satisfied  that  it  was  an  excellent  one  that  he 
purchased  it,   and  forthwith  proceeded  to  make  a 
racecourse.     He    also    planned    the    stands    himself, 
originated  the  club,  and  got  the  first  seven  hundred 
members  together.     As  stewards  for  the  first  year 
Ker  got  three  excellent  men  in  Admiral  Rous,  Lord 
Alington,  and  the  late  Mr.  George  Payne.     Finally, 
he  drew  up  the  programme  and  the  arrangements  for 
the  first  meeting.     He  had  long  had  a  great  ambition 
to    improve    suburban    meetings,    and    to    do    this 
partly  through  an  increase  in  the  gate  money,  and 
by  having  nothing  under  £100  added  to  races.     After- 
wards, as  all  the  racing  world  knows,  General  Owen 
Williams,    Hwfa    Williams,    and    Sir    Wilfrid    Brett 
became  connected  with  the  course.     Sandown  was 
the  first  race  meeting  of  the  kind  in  England  where 
gate  money  was  made  a  feature.     Now  there  are  a 
number  of  courses  conducted  on  pretty  much  the 
same  lines. 

A  man  I  used  to  see  a  good  deal  of  about  this  time 
or  a  little  later  was  John  Chambers,  one  of  the  best 
pedestrians  and  oarsmen  Cambridge  ever  turned 
out.  He  it  was,  it  may  be  recollected,  who  started 
the  Lillie  Bridge  grounds,  where  the  'Varsity 
sports  used  to  be  held,  and  revived  the  Leander 
Club.  I  gave  a  trophy  for  the  Amateur  Athletic 
Association  High  Jump,  in  which  he  was  so  much 
interested,  and  it  is  still  competed  for.  Chambers 
was  a  fine  swimmer,  and  may  be  said  to  have  brought 


80   FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

out  Webb.  As  a  pedestrian  too  he  was  at  his 
best,  and  forty  years  ago  or  so  was  the  first  winner 
of  the  seven-mile  champion  race  of  the  Amateur 
Athletic  Club.  He  once  offered  to  back  himself, 
with  George  Payne,  to  walk  twenty-one  miles  in  three 
hours,  which  would  have  been  a  remarkable  record  had 
it  come  off.  But  the  project  fell  through.  He  told 
me  he  was  pretty  confident  that  he  would  do  it,  and 
was  sure  of  his  first  fourteen  miles  in  two  hours. 

Chambers  was  a  close  friend  of  Lord  Queensberry^s 
at  Cambridge,  and  though  not  very  handy  with  the 
gloves  himself,  he  thoroughly  understood  boxing. 
Indeed,  Lord  Queensberry  assured  me  that  he,  prac- 
tically speaking,  drew  up  the  Queensberry  rules. 
They  were  of  course  passed  by  Queensberry,  but 
scarcely  edited  at  all,  save  in  one  or  two  matters 
respecting  weights,  etc.  That  he  did  his  work  well 
is  shown  by  the  fact  that  the  rules  have  undergone 
no  substantial  change  since  they  were  adopted. 

I  trained  for  the  Light  Weight  Amateur  Boxing 
Championship,  but  in  doing  so  put  on  no  less  than 
eight  pounds,  and  not  seeing  the  fun  of  wasting  this 
additional  weight  flung  it  up. 

That  Queensberry  himself  was  no  mean  runner 
at  one  time  will  be  readily  conceded  by  those  who 
can  recall  the  incidents  of  a  memorable  and  very 
sporting  race  he  ran  many  years  since  against  Fred 
Cotton,  the  author  and  composer  of  The  Meynell 
Hunt.  This  race  was  a  four-mile  one  over  Bogside 
(Eglinton  Hunt)  Steeplechase  course,  and  several 
stiffish  obstacles  had  to  be  jumped.  Cotton  won, 
though  only  by  six  yards,  after  a  magnificent  race. 
The  time  was  twenty-four  minutes  and  fifteen  seconds, 


p.  SO] 


THE    MARQUIS    OF    QUEENSBERRY. 
("  Q.") 


FOX-HUNTING   AND    OTHER   DELIGHTS    81 

and  the  feat,  under  the  circumstances,  does  not  com- 
pare by  any  means  badly  with  some  of  the  best  records 
of  the  day  over  a  cinder  track.  Cotton  was  in  those 
times  a  first-class  runner  and  also  walker.  On  one 
occasion  he  backed  himself  for  a  thousand  to  one  to 
walk  from  Ashbourne  in  Derbyshire  to  a  certain 
point  in  Perthshire,  a  distance  of  347  miles,  in  seven 
consecutive  days.  His  feet  went  all  to  pieces  so  early 
as  the  second  day,  and  he  actually  fainted  twice. 
He  struggled  on  gamely,  however,  and  won  with 
three  and  a  half  hours  in  hand.  Another  remarkable 
performance  of  his  at  Christ  Church,  New  Zealand, 
deserves  to  be  placed  on  record  :  he  walked  for  a  wager 
one  himdred  miles   in  twenty-two  hours. 

There  are  very  few  subjects  in  which  Mr.  Glad- 
stone was  not  interested.  About  horses,  I  have  been 
told,  he  neither  knew  nor  cared  anything :  but  he 
used  to  be  not  a  little  interested  in  pedestrianism. 
Nearly  forty  years  since  I  often  met  him  at  the  house 
of  a  friend,  and  talked  with  him  more  than  once  on 
the  subject.  He  was  much  concerned  to  know  what 
a  walker  could  accomplish  without  thoroughly  ex- 
hausting himself. 


CHAPTER    IV 

MOSTLY   STEEPLECHASING 

OHORTLY  after  the  Wiltshire  period,  I  was  en- 
^^  abled  to  return  once  again  to  my  old  love, 
steeplechasing,  and  ever  since  1880  have  been 
almost  continuously  riding  in  meetings  all  over 
the  country.  In  the  early  Eighties  I  got  a  good 
many  mounts  on  my  own  and  other  horses — 
chiefly  the  former — though  I  was  also  addressing 
myself  about  this  period  to  the  pursuit  of  ballooning. 
Upon  settling  down  in  Essex,  one  of  the  first 
matters  to  which  I  turned  my  attention  was,  of  all 
things  in  the  world,  party  politics  !  This  was  the 
first  (and  I  hope  it  may  be  the  last)  time  in  my  life 
that  I  took  any  share  in  the  dull  game  of  politics. 
Now-a-days,  at  any  rate,  it  seems  to  be  pretty  gener- 
ally agreed,  even  amongst  the  combatants,  that  party 
warfare  is  so  much  "  sound  and  fury  signifying 
nothing."  Sir  William  Abdy  was  standing  for  the 
division  in  which  my  house  is  situated,  and  I  helped 
to  canvass  the  district  for  him.  However,  insuffer- 
ably dull  as  party  politics  are  as  a  rule,  it  chanced 
that  there  was  a  certain  amount  of  sport  in  this 
particular  election. 

82 


MOSTLY   STEEPLECHASING  83 

There  was   much  fear  that  the   factory  hands — 
mostly   confirmed    Radicals — would    not   allow    the 
freemen — most    confirmed   Tories — to    come    up    to 
the  poll,  keeping  them  away  by  threats  and  by  actual 
deeds   of  violence.     I   told  the   people  who   feared 
intimidation  on  the  part  of  the  factory  folk,  "  What 
you  want  is  a  handful  of  fighting  men  to  keep  those 
fellows  in  order,  and  to  get  your  free  men  to  the  poll/' 
They  took  up  the  idea,  but  gave  me  rather  a  large 
order.     I  was  to  draft  down  to  Maldon  three  or  four 
hundred  fighting  men.     It  was  necessary  to  explain 
that  there  were  not  so  many  in  England.     However, 
we  did  get  some  men  down  who  understood  their 
business,  and  the  freemen  were  able  to  record  their 
votes  all  right.     To  make  assurance  doubly  sure,  a 
nice   little  gang  of  three  score  of  coal-heavers,   in 
addition  to  the  trained  pugilists,  were  drafted  down 
from  Colchester.     I  marshalled  and  commanded  this 
force  myself,  but  grieve  to  say  that  certain  of  the 
party  officials,  when  they  saw  how  thoroughly  I  had 
carried  out  the  work,  shunned  me  religiously  on  the 
day  of  the  election  ! 

Whilst  on  this  subject  of  latter  day  electioneering, 
it  may  not  be  out  of  place  to  turn  back  to  the  time 
of  my  grandfather,  the  late  Sir  John  Tyrell.  He 
was  in  Essex  politics  for  not  less  than  half  a  century, 
making  his  debut  in  1826.  In  that  year  Sir  John 
stood  on  the  hustings  to  second  the  nomination  of 
the  Hon.  G.  Winn.  It  was  a  great  contest,  very 
protracted,  very  bitter,  frightfully  costly.  It  was 
said  indeed  that  Mr.  Winn's  dearly-purchased  victory 
on  that  occasion  cost  him  the  greater  part  of  £50,000. 
But  that  contest  was  not  half   so  eventful  as  one 


84  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN^S  LIFE 

which  took  place  four  years  later  for  the  county  of 
Essex,  when  my  grandfather  was  the  Tory  candidate 
against  Mr.  CoUis,  afterwards  Lord  Western,  a  Whig 
politician  of  considerable  note,  and  Mr.  Long  Welles- 
ley,  a  nephew  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington.  Mr.  Welles- 
ley  went  so  far  in  his  virulent  abuse  of  Sir  John 
Tyrell  that  he  had  to  be  called  to  account.  He 
disclaimed,  however,  somewhat  after  the  usual  custom 
of  politicians  at  the  present  time  when  heaping 
terms  of  abuse  on  each  other,  any  intention  of  assail- 
ing his  opponent's  personal  honour.  My  grandfather 
accepted  this  disclaimer,  but  took  the  opportunity 
of  intimating  that  he  was  "to  be  found  at  Boreham 
House,"'  if  wanted  at  any  time.  Good  old  days  those 
were,  with  all  their  corrupt  electioneering !  A 
politician  then  was  deemed  not  a  madman  nor  a 
criminal,  but  an  upright  gentleman,  because  he  held 
his  life  not  more  valuable  than  his  honour.  Sir  John 
eventually  headed  the  poll,  Mr.  Western  and  Mr. 
Wellesley  coming  second  and  third  respectively. 

Rather  curiously,  though  this  Mr.  Wellesley,  who 
afterwards  became  Lord  Mornington,  did  not  see 
his  way  to  take  on  my  grandfather.  Sir  John  Tyrell, 
he  was  actually  engaged  in  a  duel  later  on  with  my 
great-uncle — the  Rev.  Heaton  de  Crespigny — who 
prior  to  being  a  parson  fought  in  the  celebrated  action 
between  the  Amelia  and  L'Arethuse.  Wellesley  had 
insulted  Sir  William  de  Crespigny,  his  father,  who 
was  paralyzed,  and  my  great-uncle  accordingly  had 
him  out.  "  You  think  I  have  only  got  a  black  coat," 
he  said  to  Wellesley ;  "  you  are  wrong :  I've  a 
shooting  one  as  well." 

This     engagement     between     the     Amelia     and 


MOSTLY   STEEPLECHASING  85 

UArethuse  is  quite  one  of  the  most  interesting  inci- 
dents in  the  naval  history  of  the  century,  and  it  is 
curious  that  it  should  be  so  little  known  in  comparison 
with  the  contest  between  the  Shannon  and  Chesa- 
peake, or  between  Sir  Kichard  Grenville's  Revenge 
and  the  Spanish  fleet.  Tennyson  has  made  the 
latter  immortal  in  his  ballad,  but  it  has  been  ques- 
tioned whether  the  melting  away  of  Lord  Howard 
into  the  "  silent  summer  heaven  "  on  that  occasion 
with  five  ships  of  war,  was  altogether  a  creditable 
affair,  though  the  post  did  his  best  to  exonerate  his 
discreet  lordship.  In  the  duel  between  the  Amelia 
and  UArethuse,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  nought 
that  reflects  anything  save  glory  on  all  concerned 
on  the  British  side. 

The  incident  took  place  early  in  Feb.  1813, 
during  the  great  war  with  France.  Captain  Irby, 
whose  family,  by  the  way,  intermarried  with  mine, 
was  just  thinking  of  leaving  Sierra  Leone,  where 
his  ship,  the  Amelia,  had  been  stationed  for  a  while, 
when  a  Lieutenant  Pascoe  came  in  hot  haste  to  the 
Sierra  Leone  river  with  the  crew  of  the  gun-brig 
Daring,  which  he  had  been  obliged  to  run  ashore 
and  blow  up  in  consequence  of  having  been  pursued 
by  a  French  frigate  backed  up  by  two  other  ships. 
A  reconnoitring  party  was  at  once  despatched  by 
Captain  Irby,  who  soon  found  a  force  consisting  of 
two  frigates,  of  the  largest  and  most  powerful  class, 
named  UArethuse  and  Le  Rubis,  together  with  a 
Portuguese  ship  that  they  had  captured.  Captain 
Irby  left  Sierra  Leone  and  worked  up  to  the  Islands 
of  de  Loss.  He  speedily  fell  in  with  UArethuse,  and 
endeavoured,  not  unsuccessfully,  to  draw  her  ofi  her 


86   FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN^S  LIFE 

consort,  as  he  was  naturally  not  anxious  to  engage 
both  these  powerful  vessels  at  the  same  time  if  he 
could  help  it.  When  the  last  vestige  of  Le  Rubis  had 
disappeared,  the  captain  of  the  Amelia  shortened 
sail,  and  stood  towards  his  threatening  and  probably 
overweeningly  confident  foe.  The  French  ship  was 
far  stronger  in  guns  and  complement  than  the 
British,  and  eagerly  availed  herself  of  the  invita- 
tion to  battle.  She  carried  on  her  deck  some  heavy 
French  twenty-four-pounders  in  addition  to  other 
guns. 

At  about  seven  in  the  evening  the  French  ship 
ran  up  her  colours,  and  three-quarters  of  an  hour 
later,  the  two  vessels  being  then  within  pistol-shot 
of  one  another,  a  great  duel  commenced.  Both  fired 
the  shots  at  about  the  same  time,  and  both  preserved 
throughout  the  encounter  pretty  well  the  same 
position.  For  over  three  hours  and  a  half  they 
poured  shot  into  each  other.  All  the  onslaughts  of 
L'Arethuse  were  repulsed  by  the  brave  men  of  the 
Amelia,  who,  like  the  men  of  the  Revenge,  shook  of! 
the  Frenchmen — 

"  as  a  dog  that  shakes  his  ears 
When  he  leaps  from  the  water  to  the  land." 

Then  at  length  L'Arethuse  bore  away.  She  went 
with  many  dead  and  wounded  on  board  and  not 
uninjured  as  to  her  hull,  and  made  no  further 
attempt  then  or  afterwards  to  tackle  the  Amelia. 
The  British  ship,  when  the  duel  was  ended,  was  found 
to  be  in  a  quite  ungovernable  condition.  Her  sails 
and  rigging  were  all  cut  to  pieces,  and  her  masts  lay 
in  ruins  about  the  decks.     Captain  Irby  was  himself 


MOSTLY   STEEPLECHASING  87 

wounded  when  on  the  quarter-deck,  and  his  hst  of 
killed  and  wounded  numbered  141.  The  Amelia,  it 
should  be  mentioned,  had,  like  the  little  Revenge,  a 
number  of  sick  men  on  board,  and  she  had  barely 
her  full  complement  fit  for  duty  when  she  dared  the 
French  ship.  Some  may  feel  inclined  to  ask,  like 
little  Casper,  what  good  came  of  it  at  last ;  but  few 
will  deny  that  it  is  a  splendid  incident  in  the  history 
of  our  Navy. 

The  afiair  above  mentioned  between  Heaton  de 
Crespigny  and  Wellesley  took  place  in  the  year  1828, 
and  is  thus  described  in  a  newspaper  of  that  time  : 
**  On  Thursday,  a  duel  was  fought  on  the  sands  at 
Calais  between  Mr.  Long  Wellesley  and  Mr.  De 
Crespigny.  The  dispute  originated  in  a  remark  made 
by  Mr.  Wellesley  respecting  some  parts  of  the  con- 
duct of  Mr.  De  Crespigny 's  father.  He  was  requested 
to  retract  it ;  and  on  his  refusal  a  challenge  was  sent 
to  him  by  the  two  Mr.  De  Crespignys,  when  all  the 
parties  started  at  full  speed  from  Dover  to  Calais. 
Colonel  John  Freemantle  of  the  Guards  was  second 
to  Mr.  Wellesley,  and  Captain  Brooke,  also  of  the 
Guards,  attended  his  antagonist.  The  duel  was  fought 
on  the  sands  immediately  after  the  arrival  of  the 
seconds.  Both  parties  fired  together  on  a  given 
signal  at  the  distance  of  ten  paces,  and  neither  of 
them  happening  to  be  wounded,  the  seconds  iixmie- 
diately  interfered.  A  question  here  arose  with 
respect  to  the  second  challenge,  as  to  how  far  it  was 
or  was  not  to  be  accepted,  when  Captain  Brooke 
decided  that  Mr.  Long  Wellesley  had  done  as  much 
as  he  was  required  to  do.  The  parties  then  separated 
and   returned   from   Calais   on   Friday    morning   to 


8B   FOKTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

Dover,  where  Mrs.  Bligh  at  the  York  Hotel  was 
waiting  with  great  anxiety  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Welles- 
ley,  and  accompanied  by  him  and  Colonel  Freemantle, 
she  has  since  left  Dover  for  London."  The  final 
paragraph  has  more  than  a  spice  of  the  new  and 
personal  journalism  about  it. 

My  own  views  on  duelling  were  freely  expressed 
some  years  since  in  the  press,  and  they  have  under- 
gone no  change  since  then.  The  duel,  when  it  gener- 
ally prevailed  in  this  country,  was  not  without  its 
grave  attendant  evils,  but  the  same  may  be  said  of 
many  desirable  institutions.  The  code  of  honour 
which  regulated  the  acts  of  the  Iron  Duke  is  surely 
good  enough  for  most  of  us,  and  we  all  know  that 
he  was  not  inclined  to  shirk  a  duel  when  his  personal 
honour  was  concerned. 

Most  men  who  have  reached  the  meridian  of  life 
can  recall  some  fracas  or  episode  in  which  insulting 
expressions  have  been  made  use  of  by  those  supposed 
to  be  of  the  creme  de  la  creme  in  the  world  of  society, 
when  an  appeal  to  mortal  combat  has  been  suggested 
as  the  only  method  of  settling  the  difficulty  ;  and 
why  the  trusty  steel  of  these  fire-eating  but  degene- 
rate descendants  of  gallant  gentlemen  has  remained 
unsheathed  has  always  been  a  mystery  to  me.  Of 
course — though  challenges  are  perhaps  more  fre- 
quently flying  about  amongst  English  gentlemen  than 
the  world  seems  to  be  aware  of — it  would  be  an  act 
of  folly  to  go  out  in  this  country,  law  and  custom 
both  prohibiting  it.  But,  across  the  water,  duelling 
is  practically  winked  at.  I  would  not  go  so  far  as 
to  say  that  the  injured  party  is  compelled  to  parade 
the  wrong-doer,  but  I  do  maintain  that  should  the 


MOSTLY    STEEPLECHASING  89 

latter  be  challenged,  he  is  bound,  if  a  gentleman,  to 
go  out. 

One  of  the  last  duels  fought  in  this  country  was 

between    Colonel    H and    Lord    M .     The 

former,  whom  I  knew  well  for  many  years,  but  whose 
full  name  I  refrain  from  giving  in  order  not  to  cause 
pain  to  his  family,  was  a  wonderfully  fine  pistol-shot. 
But  in  this  instance,  owing  probably  to  the  sun 
being  in  his  face  as  he  fired,  his  ball  only  grazed  his 

opponent's  face.     Lord  M discharged  his  weapon 

in  the  air. 

Before  quitting  the  subject,  I  may  refer  to  a 
curious  memento  which  used  to  be  worn  by  Baron 
Malortie,  whom  I  have  already  alluded  to  as  a  duellist. 
This  was  a  bullet  made  into  a  scarf-pin.  It  had 
struck  him  on  a  rib  over  the  heart,  and  been  cut  out 
near  the  spine.  He  wore  this,  believing  that  it 
would  bring  him  luck  in  future  combats. 

This  duelling  digression  has  taken  me  a  good  way 
from  the  subject  of  steeplechasing,  with  which  the 
chapter  commenced.  I  had  for  some  time  before 
settling  down  in  Essex  had  it  in  my  mind  to  have 
one  day  a  cross-country  meeting  of  my  own.  At 
that  time  Lord  Guildford,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  was 
about  the  only  man  who  had  carried  out  such  an 
idea.  His  meetings  at  Waldershare  were  a  decided 
success,  though  I  do  not  speak  from  personal  ex- 
perience, never  having  ridden  there  myself.  More 
recently  Mr.  Harry  McCalmont  has  established  a 
course  on  his  own  estate,  though  naturally  on  a  more 
princely  scale  than  that  at  either  Waldershare  or 
Champion  Lodge.  Moreover,  the  Waldershare  and 
Champion     Lodge     steeplechasing     meetings     were 


90   FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

started  with  the  idea  of  catering  principally  for  local 
hunts,  which  was  not,  I  take  it,  Mr.  McCalmont's 
object.  I  had  already  had  experience  in  making  a 
steeplechase  course,  having  been  engaged  in  the  work 
in  India.  In  the  autumn  of  1876  I  made  a  course 
for  my  regiment  at  Seetapore.  I  tried  Baby  Blake 
over  some  of  the  jumps,  and,  when  the  meeting  came 
off,  won  a  good  race.  Few  cross-country  riders 
have  had  the  chance  perhaps  of  winning  about  the 
first  race  over  a  course  they  have  themselves  made. 
The  task  of  making  a  steeplechase  course  in  India 
in  those  days  was  not  a  hard  one  to  a  man  with  any 
knowledge  of  the  sport.  There  were  no  regulations 
as  regards  the  jumps,  and  native  labour  was  cheap. 
My  Seetapore  course  was  a  mile  round,  and  the 
jumps  consisted  of  a  stiffish  double,  a  mud-wall,  and 
bush  fences.  I  superintended,  and  set  two  or  three 
riflemen  to  keep  an  eye  on  the  natives  employed. 
In  March  1881  we  set  to  work  to  make  a  course  at 
Champion  Lodge,  and  in  less  than  a  week  had  it 
ship-shape.  The  expenses  were  inconsiderable,  as 
the  work  was  performed  by  men  in  my  own  employ. 
There  were  several  suitable  fields  round  my  house, 
and  practically  all  we  had  to  do  was  to  make  the 
necessary  jumps,  and  erect  a  stand  or  two.  It  was 
necessary  later  on,  but  not  at  the  time  of  the  first 
meeting,  to  comply  with  the  regulations  as  regards 
fences,  etc.,  laid  down  by  the  stewards  of  the  National 
Hunt,  as  the  meetings  were  to  be  held  under  the  aegis 
of  that  body  ;  but  this  proved  an  easy  enough  task. 
As  regards  stands,  I  found  a  man  ready  enough  to 
put  up  one  for  nothing  on  the  condition  that  he 
should  be  allowed  to  erect  a  second  one  on  his  own 


CHAMPION    LODGE  :      THE    HALL 


MOSTLY   STEEPLECHASING  91 

account,  and  charge  those  who  use  it  a  small  sum. 
We  decided  not  to  go  on  the  gate-money  principle. 
It  would  not  have  tended  to  make  the  meetings  popu- 
lar in  the  district,  and  the  object  of  the  Champion 
Lodge  private  course  has  always  been  to  afiord  sport 
and  amusement  to  Essex  folk,  as  well  as  to  our  own 
immediate  circle  of  friends. 

The  posts  and  rails,  as  every  one  knows,  have 
been  abolished  in  steeplechasing  ;  and  we  never  had 
them  at  our  little  meeting.  Some  people  think 
that  the  change  was  not  for  the  best.  The  last  time 
I  rode  over  posts  and  rails  was  at  Ipswich.  They 
certainly  had  this  drawback,  that  horses  occasionally 
got  into  a  habit  of  chancing  them,  as  they  chance 
hurdles,  with  evil  results.  A  stickler  for  timber 
jumps  persisted  on  having  posts  and  rails  once  at 
Aldershot.  General  Byrne  was  one  of  the  stewards. 
*'  Very  well,"  said  he  ;  "  what  height  will  you  have 
them  ?  "  The  reply  was  "  three  feet  six  inches."' 
They  were  put  up,  and  on  the  day  of  the  meeting 
the  only  man  who  came  to  grief  was  the  stickler  him- 
self. He  broke  his  collar-bone  over  this  particular 
jump. 

At  Ipswich  the  posts  and  rails  were  substituted 
one  year  for  the  big  double  fence — which  was  properly 
a  couple  of  fences  with  a  space  of  a  yard  or  so  between 
— but  found  a  failure,  and  once  more  abandoned. 
There  was  a  certain  feeling  against  this  big  fence,  and 
I  was  approached  by  the  malcontents  and  asked  to 
get  up  an  indignation  meeting  in  the  matter.  I 
declined,  not  regarding  the  jump  with  disfavour. 

The  abolition  of  the  posts  and  rails  may  to  a 
certain  degree  have  lessened  the  danger  of  steeple- 


92   FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

chasing.  In  a  blinding  storm,  for  instance,  the 
jump  was  sometimes  a  difficult  one  to  see  properly. 
Does  the  lessening  of  danger  in  this,  and  other  respects, 
tend  to  emasculate  the  cross-country  sport  ?  People 
are  constantly  asking  me  whether  I  consider  that 
steeplechasing  has  degenerated  since  I  first  donned 
colours.  On  the  whole,  I  am  not  prepared  to  say 
that  it  has.  The  horses  are  far  finer  creatures  than 
they  were  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago  :  no  "  cock- 
tail," such  as  often  used  to  win  in  those  days,  would 
have  a  chance  in  a  big  race  now.  Then  the  courses 
are  far  more  numerous,  as  are  also  the  riders.  Last, 
but  not  least,  the  pace  is  greater  and  the  jumping 
more  perfect.  At  the  same  time,  though  it  will  be 
seen  I  am  not  indiscriminately  in  this  matter  a 
laudator  temforis  acti,  I  sun.  bound  to  admit  that  to 
a  certain  degree  steeplechasing  to-day  is  rather 
inclined  to  become,  in  certain  respects,  a  kid-glove 
kind  of  business  compared  with  what  it  was  of  yore. 
Many  of  the  best  and  biggest  courses  are  attended 
to  almost  like  tennis-lawns  or  cricket-pitches.  The 
*'  take-off "  and  landing  in  particular  are  looked 
after  with  the  greatest  care.  When  a  frost  threatens, 
straw  is  usually  put  down  to  keep  the  ground  from 
becoming  too  hard,  and  one  even  hears  of  the  whole 
course  being  in  some  instances  treated  with  the  same 
tenderness.  Then  all  the  jumps  are  strictly  in 
accordance  with  regulation.  In  short,  there  is  an 
undoubted  tendency  now-a-days  to,  as  it  were,  "  cut 
and  dry  "  our  steeplechasing. 

A  similar  tendency  evinces  itself  in  various  other 
sports.  We  become  more  scientific  and  more 
methodical.     Compare,  for  instance,  the  hunting  of 


MOSTLY    STEEPLECHASTNG  93 

big  game  as  practised  to-day  with  the  same  sport  as 
practised  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago.  We  face  big 
game  now  with  weapons  which  make  the  clumsy  old 
rifle  seem  a  thing  only  fit  to  be  put  in  the  hands  of 
a  savage  ;  and  in  proportion  as  our  weapons  become 
more  perfect  our  method  of  big-game  shooting  must 
become  more  of  the  kid-glove  kind.  When  I  first 
entered  the  steeplechasing  world,  we  had  often  on 
quite  important  courses  to  face  in  bad  weather  the 
most  frightful  ground.  To  ride  over  heavy  ploughed 
land  was  quite  the  rule  rather  than  the  exception, 
and  the  jumps  were  often  of  the  rudest  character. 
It  is  when  I  contrast  this  state  of  things  with  existing 
conditions  that  I  feel  inclined  to  use  the  expression 
kid-glove  style  in  reference  to  steeplechasing  at  the 
present  time.  On  the  other  hand,  the  vast  improve- 
ment in  horses  makes  great  amends  for  the  falling 
of!  in  these  respects.  The  steeplechase  is  to-day, 
as  ever,  a  magnificent  form  of  sport. 

I  doubt,  however,  whether  it  would  long  remain 
so  if  the  safety-at-any-price  party  had  their  way. 
I  have  admitted  candidly  that  the  posts  and  rails 
had  drawbacks,  but  really  there  are  people  calling 
themselves  sportsmen,  well  nigh  ready  to  put  an 
end  to  jumping  altogether.  There  is  the  open-ditch 
scare,  which  periodically  arises.  Drawing-room 
sportsmen  take  exception  to  the  open  ditch  because, 
so  they  declare,  no  horse  can  manage  it  with  safety 
unless  regularly  educated  over  a  wholly  artificial 
jump  ;  and  it  has  even  been  described  as  a  death- 
trap. When  Sly  came  to  grief  over  the  open  ditch 
— as  we  all  must  expect  to  do  more  or  less  from  time 
to  time — the  Grand  National  Hunt  were  adjured  to 


94   FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

do  away  with  it.  Lord  Queensberry  proved  con- 
clusively some  years  ago  that  the  agitation  against 
the  open  ditch  was  a  most  unreasonable  one,  in- 
stancing the  number  of  times  it  was  negotiated  in  the 
Grand  National  without  any  casualty. 

According  to  my  experience,  the  open  ditch  is 
right  enough  provided  a  horse  has  been  properly 
schooled,  for  naturally  out  hunting  one  finds  as  many 
ditches  on  the  take-off  side  as  on  the  landing  ;  whilst 
with  guard-rails,  which  most  steeplechase  courses  have, 
the  take-off  is  much  more  distinct  to  the  horses.  Of 
course  it  happens  now  and  then  that  a  most  perfect 
fencer  will  slip  in  taking-off.  Lord  Chancellor,  the 
best  of  fencers,  went  wrong  thus,  and  old  Champion 
more  recently,  at  the  mature  age  of  twelve  years, 
slipped  into  the  open  ditch  at  Plumpton,  where  I 
have  on  one  occasion  found  myself,  and  alongside 
of  which  poor  Billy  Sensier  was  killed.  Some  say 
that  this  ditch  at  Plumpton  is  the  most  formidable 
in  the  south  of  England. 

But  the  bulk  of  "  the  grief  "  is  simply  owing  to 
a  lot  of  half-schooled  four-year-olds  bringing  down 
other  horses.  Sly's  accident,  I  was  informed  by 
reliable  eye-witnesses,  was  attributable  to  the  severity 
of  the  pace,  which  had  exhausted  the  horse,  so  that 
a  sheep-hurdle  would  have  been  as  likely  to  have 
caused  the  mischief  as  the  open  ditch  which  actually 
did  so. 

Before  quitting  this  subject,  a  few  words  may  be 
said  about  the  agitation  against  steeplechasing  on 
the  ground  that  it  entails  frequent  cruelty  to  animals. 
Almost  as  much  has  been  said  on  this  score  at  various 
times  as  on  that  of  damage  to  the  riders.     It  is  moon- 


MOSTLY    STEEPLECHASING  95 

shine.  The  number  of  accidents  fatal  to  man  and 
beast  on  the  steeplechase  course  are  remarkably  few, 
and  the  sufferings  of  the  latter  are,  on  the  whole,  as 
nothing  compared  to  those  endured  by  many  a 
London  cab-horse.  No  pains  are  spared  to  get 
steeplechasers  into  the  most  perfect  condition.  They 
live  in  the  best  stables,  and  on  carefully  selected  oats 
and  hay,  in  return  for  which  they  are  expected  to 
make  an  effort  lasting  for  a  few  seconds  about  a 
dozen  times  in  the  year,  and  to  negotiate  fences  over 
which  they  are  constantly  schooled.  Moreover,  the 
pain  suffered  by  horses  that  do  come  to  grief  would 
seem  to  have  been,  except  in  the  case  of  breakdowns, 
altogether  exaggerated.  At  all  events,  I  have  myself 
observed  a  horse  with  a  broken  back  calmly  grazing, 
though  necessarily  unable  to  move  its  hind-quarters. 
A  broken  leg  is  comparatively  painless  until  stiffness 
sets  in,  and  before  that,  as  a  rule,  a  friendly  bullet 
has  done  its  work. 

The  opening  meeting  of  the  Champion  Lodge 
Hunt  and  Military  Steeplechases  took  place  about  a 
fortnight  after  the  course  was  got  into  final  order, 
namely,  on  March  30,  1881.  The  programme  con- 
sisted of  six  events,  namely,  Farmers'  Cup,  Ladies' 
Cup,  Hunt  Cup,  Military  Cup,  Consolation  Steeple- 
chase, and  a  match.  The  course  was  about  a  mile 
in  length,  and  there  were  about  half-a-dozen  jumps. 
The  fences  were  regarded  as  rather  stiff  ones,  the  in 
and  out  being  the  most  ticklish  to  negotiate.  There 
was  no  serious  accident,  but  a  fair  number  of  tumbles, 
and  one  horse  looked  as  if  it  were  done  for,  though 
it  ultimately  turned  out  that  it  was  not  injured  at  all. 
The  most  popular  win  was  probably  that  of  Billy 


96   FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

White,  who  steered  his  horse  Tommy  Dodd  to  victory 
in  the  Hunt  Cup.  Billy  at  the  time  was  between 
fifty  and  sixty  years  of  age,  yet  he  romped  in  as  he 
was  wont  to  do  at  Middlewick.  The  Ladies'  Cup 
fell  to  Lady  de  Crespigny's  Wild  Georgie,  which  I 
rode  myself.  Cartridge  got  beaten  in  the  match  by 
Mr.  Laurence's  Sam,  ridden  by  owner. 

Previous  to  this  meeting  at  Champion  Lodge,  I 
had  been  getting  my  hand  in  a  little  over  a  few  local 
courses.  For  instance,  on  September  18,  1880,  Wild 
Georgie  carried  me  to  victory  in  the  Officers'  Challenge 
Cup,  in  the  Regimental  Races,  got  up  by  the  Loyal 
Suffolk  Hussars  at  Bury.  We  all  rode  this  cup  race 
twice  over,  owing  to  an  odd  mistake  made  by  Colonel 
Blake,  who  was  leading,  and  took  us  the  wrong  course. 
The  mistake  discovered,  we  had  to  return,  and  re- 
ride  the  race. 

It  does  sometimes  happen  that  in  a  mist  or  a  bad 
light  a  jockey  goes  round  the  wrong  post  by  accident. 
But  once  at  Bury  St.  Edmunds,  in  a  race  I  was  riding 
in,  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  believe  that  an  oppo- 
nent who  did  so  was  quite  unaware  of  his  mistake. 
In  this  instance  the  leading  horse  went  wrong,  and 
whilst  the  other  jockeys  in  front  of  me  were  turning 
their  heads  to  chaff  their  friend,  they  missed  a  post 
themselves.  Being  second,  I  lodged  an  objection 
against  one  of  these  jockeys  who  beat  me,  and  with 
several  witnesses  in  my  favour,  including  the  rider 
who  first  went  wrong,  the  decision  went  against  him. 
Still  he  swore  thick  and  thin  that  he  had  not  done 
anything  of  the  kind.  I  accordingly  went  down  the 
course  with  him,  and  pointed  out  where  the  thing 
had  taken  place.     As  it  happened,  I  was  able  to  show 


SIR    CLAUDE    CHAMPION    DE    CRESPIGNY. 


p.  96] 


MOSTLY    STEEPLECHASING  97 

his  horse's  footmarks  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  post. 
This  seemed  conchisive,  but  still  he  persevered  in 
his  well-played  part  of  injured  innocence.  "  Those 
are  the  footmarks,  Sir  Claude,"  he  exclaimed,  as  a 
last  resort,  "  of  a  cantering,  not  a  galloping  horse  !  " 
He  afterwards  got  warned  off,  and  eventually  took 
to  driving  a  hansom  cab. 

Many  a  jockey  has  lost  a  good  race,  more  especially 
no  doubt  in  bad  weather,  through  being  deceived  by 
a  post.  These  little  things  happen  much  more  often 
than  many  onlookers  may  suppose  in  both  racing 
and  steeplechasing,  and  help  to  increase  the  glorious 
uncertainty  of  the  sport.  Billy  Bevill  once  pointed 
me  out  a  post  at  a  Bibury  meeting  which  he  described 
as  one  that  had  been  the  means  of  losing  more  races 
in  its  time  than  any  other  in  England.  "  Do  you 
see  the  one  I  mean  ?  "  he  asked,  pointing  it  out  to 
me.  "  Perfectly,"  I  replied.  We  advanced  a  few 
yards.  "  Do  you  see  it  now  ?  "  he  asked,  and  I 
found  that  I  had  quite  lost  sight  of  it.  Curiously 
enough,  this  post  won  Bevill  a  race  on  that  very 
day  a  few  hours  later.  Jewitt,  whilst  leading,  was 
deceived  by  it,  and  took  the  favourite,  who  was 
following  him,  out  of  the  course.  That  gave  Bevill 
a  good  lead,  which  he  maintained,  winning  easily. 

Earlier  in  1881  my  mare  Cartridge,  whom  I  had 
purchased  in  the  New  Forest  from  an  officer  quartered 
at  Christchurch,  and  brought  with  me  to  Essex,  won 
a  jumping  competition  in  some  sports  got  up  by 
Major  Yeldham  at  Yeldham.  She  cleared  the  hurdles 
very  clean,  and  so  won  the  prize,  though  pitted 
against  a  decidedly  brilliant  jumper,  who  only  a 
short  time  before  was  first  at  the  Agricultural  Hall 

7 


98   FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

with  a  jump  of  six  feet  three  inches.  On  this  occasion 
my  opponent  "  chanced  "  the  hurdles,  and  so  got 
beaten  by  Cartridge. 

I  must  not  omit  to  mention  a  remarkable  accident 
to  a  horse  which  I  witnessed  early  in  the  same  year, 
when  out  with  the  East  Essex  near  Braxted  Park. 
Huzzar,  a  horse  belonging  to  my  brother,  which  a 
friend  was  riding,  got  pierced  in  the  stomach  by  a 
stake,  and  died  in  two  minutes,  owing  doubtless  to 
the  severance  of  an  artery.  Colonel  Holroyd,  an 
old  Master  of  Hounds  in  my  part  of  the  world,  was 
near  when  the  strange  accident  occurred,  and  called 
me  back  just  in  time  to  see  the  horse  fall  over,  with 
a  stream  of  blood  pouring  out  of  the  wound.  The 
injury  was  inflicted  by  a  pointed  stake,  which  had 
evidently  been  removed  from  its  place  in  the  hedge 
in  order  to  make  a  gap.  Both  ends  were  pointed, 
and  after  removal  from  the  hedge  one  stuck  in  the 
ground,  whilst  the  other  was  tilted  up  at  an  angle  of 
forty-five  or  so,  by  the  horse's  fore-foot,  just  right 
for  spearing  a  horse  in  the  stomach.  As  luck  would 
have  it,  the  horse  had  been  sold  only  the  same  day 
at  Brighton. 

We  have  happily  never  had  any  fatal  accident, 
though  now  and  then  a  few  unimportant  ones,  on 
the  Champion  Lodge  course.  In  1882,  however,  I 
came  very  near  killing  Mr.  Bruen  in  a  way  not  alto- 
gether dissimilar  to  that  recorded  above.  In  finishing 
the  race  for  the  United  Service  Cup,  my  horse, 
Twelfth  Cake,  trod  on,  and  struck  upwards,  the 
spike  of  the  flag.  Bruen  was  coming  up  immediately 
behind  me,  and  the  stake  grazed  his  horse's  shoulder, 
actually  removing  some  of  the  hair  without  drawing 


MOSTLY    STEEPLECHASING  99 

blood.  Seeing  what  had  happened,  Bruen  instantly 
loosened  his  grip  of  the  saddle  and  allowed  the  lance 
to  pass  between  his  thigh  and  the  saddle-flap.  He 
carried  the  thing  a  few  paces,  and  then  opened  his 
thigh  and  let  it  drop — a  very  narrow  escape  for  both 
horse  and  rider. 

A  trip  to  Aldershot  in  April  1881  was  not  pro- 
ductive of  much  sport.  I  did  not  take  part  in  the 
Point-to-Point  Steeplechase  on  the  13th,  which  was 
ridden  along  the  Hog's  Back,  and  finished  on  a  farm 
of  Mr.  Shrubb,  a  late  Master  of  the  Tedworth ; 
whilst  a  week  later  Wild  Georgie  refused,  and  spoilt 
any  chance  I  had  of  winning  the  steeplechase  open 
to  officers  of  the  Auxiliary  Cavalry. 

The  next  entry  in  my  diary  is  May  9,  1881.  Mar- 
cus Beresford  and  myself  repaired  to  Epsom,  I  to 
ride  Twelfth  Cake.  The  horse  was  purchased  from 
Marcus,  and  won  some  fair  races  in  this  and  following 
years.  On  May  12  Twelfth  Cake,  with  myself  up, 
got  first  past  the  post  in  the  Military  Steeplechases 
at  Ipswich.  In  this  race  Wilson  Todd,  on  Punchbowl, 
came  down  at  the  fence  opposite  the  Stand,  and  the 
crowd  rushed  in  apparently  ignorant  of  the  fact  that 
there  were  other  horses  to  come  up.  I  was  last  up, 
and  to  stop  was  out  of  the  question.  Twelfth  Cake 
went  in  amongst  the  mob  pell-mell,  and  bade  fair 
to  make  some  human  mincemeat.  There  seemed  to 
be  eight  or  ten  of  them  down  at  the  same  time.  I 
know  that  it  occurred  to  me  that  about  the  next 
place  I  should  find  myself  in  would  be  a  coroner's 
court  instead  of  a  racecourse  ;  but  no  serious  damage 
seems  to  have  been  done,  and  Twelfth  Cake,  despite 
this  incident,  won  the  race.     On  the  same  day  I  was 


100  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

successful  with  Wild  Georgie,  in  a  match  against 
Silvertail,  who  was  ridden  by  the  owner. 

On  the  following  day  there  was  more  chasing,  and 
Twelfth  Cake  was  entered  for  one  race.  Finding, 
however,  I  could  not  ride  the  weight,  I  put  up  a  boy, 
who  rode  well  enough,  but  got  beaten.  On  the  14th 
there  was  pigeon-shooting,  and  I  won  the  Regimental 
Cup  and  double  rise.  Indeed,  I  was  in  good  cup  form 
at  this  meeting,  winning  three  in  all,  namely,  Swords- 
manship, Pigeon-shooting,  and  Regimental.  It  was 
at  Ipswich  that  the  Duke  of  Hamilton  made  a  present 
of  Pudding  to  Wenty  Hope  Johnstone.  Many 
people  thought  that  the  horse  was  an  utter  crock, 
but  after  he  had  passed  out  of  the  Duke's  hands  he 
won  a  heap  of  races.  As  a  six-year-old  this  horse — 
who  was  by  Brown  Bread  out  of  Claretto,  and  was  a 
half-brother  of  Twelfth  Cake — won  no  less  than 
eleven  races,  giving  on  one  occasion  as  much  as  lOlbs. 
to  Johnnie  Longtail. 

Four  days  later  came  the  Suffolk  Yeomanry  Cavalry 
Races,  when  for  the  second  time  running  I  won  on 
Wild  Georgie  the  Challenge  Cup,  and  was  therefore 
entitled  to  keep  it.  This  mare  was  an  undeniably 
useful  one.  She  was  by  Rosicrucian  out  of  Bel 
Esperanza.  The  former,  all  racing  men  know,  was 
one  of  Sir  Joseph  Hawley's  very  best.  Walking 
early  in  the  Seventies  from  Oxford  to  Southampton, 
I  looked  up  Porter  at  Kingsclere,  and  he  told  me 
that  the  world  had  no  idea  of  what  a  superb  horse 
Rosicrucian  really  was.  He  said  he  wanted  to  bring 
him  out  once  more,  to  let  people  see  how  good  he  was, 
and  then  put  him  to  stud.  Rosicrucian  was  brought 
out  after  this  at  Ascot,  and  won  the  Ascot  Stakes 


MOSTLY   STEEPLECHASING  101 

carrying  9  stone,  and  the  Alexandra  Plate  carrying 
9  stone  7  lbs.  He  made  hacks  of  all  his  opponents. 
Bel  Esperanza  does  not  appear  to  have  been  a  par- 
ticular flier.  Wild  Georgie  was  purchased  from  old 
John  Tubb,  the  Winchester  dealer,  quite  a  char- 
acter in  his  line.  Once  a  horse  let  out  for  the  day 
by  Tubb  bolted  with  the  carriage  and  its  unhappy 
occupants  the  best  part  of  the  way  back  from 
Cranberry  Park  to  Winchester.  Arrived  home,  the 
hirer  remonstrated  with  the  worthy  dealer,  saying 
that  this  was  about  the  hottest  specimen  of  a  nag 
he  had  ever  had,  which  was  saying  a  good  deal,  from 
those  stables.  Thereupon  Tubb  quietly  called  his 
irate  customer's  attention  to  the  extreme  originality 
displayed  in  the  fixing  of  the  reins,  which  had  been 
buckled  to  the  rings  of  the  collar. 

On  another  occasion  Tubb  found  it  more  difficult 
to  defend  himself.  An  officer  had  entrusted  a  horse 
to  the  dealer,  with  injunctions  to  give  him  a  nice 
loose  box,  as  he  needed  rest.  He  returned  from 
leave  to  the  stables  before  Tubb  expected  him,  and 
could  not  see  his  horse  until  a  team  from  Hambledon 
Races  came  in.  In  that  team  was  his  animal.  De- 
nunciation ensued  :  "  Well,"  exclaimed  the  aggrieved 
dealer,  "  if  this  isn't  hard  on  me,  sir !  I  never  can 
do  anything  wrong  without  being  found  out !  " 

This  meeting  of  the  Suffolk  Yeomanry  Cavalry 
was  in  one  respect  unfortunate  for  those  taking  part 
therein.  All  the  horses  were  disqualified  for  ever 
afterwards.  The  event  had  been  sent  in  a  few  hours 
too  late  to  appear  in  the  Calendar.  This  being  so,  the 
best  thing  for  Wild  Georgie  was  to  go  and  try  her 
fortune  in  a  race  or  two  abroad.     I  saw  her  of!  at 


102  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

St.  Catherine's  Wharf  next  month,  having  lent  her 
to  a  gunner  friend,  who  was  keen  on  winning  a  race 
at  Spa.  He  only  managed,  however,  to  be  placed 
second. 

A  little  incident  in  connection  with  an  old  acquain- 
tance of  mine.  Baker,  which  took  place  about  this 
time,  will  perhaps  not  be  read  without  interest  by 
the  many  admirers  of  that  most  gallant  and  excellent 
soldier.  On  June  25,  1881,  I  came  to  town  for  the 
purpose  of  giving  my  vote  at  the  "  Rag  "  in  the 
matter  of  his  candidature  for  re-election.  I  rather 
fancy  that  Baker  is  the  one  instance  of  a  member 
of  the  "  Rag  "  being  re-elected  after  his  resignation. 
There  was  rather  a  strong  contingent  against  him, 
and  as  a  result  the  balloting  was  a  close  thing.  I 
was  with  my  brother  during  the  balloting,  and  when 
his  turn  came  observed  that  he  had  selected  a 
light-coloured  ball,  and  was  about  to  flip  it  carelessly 
into  either  pocket.  Now,  though  a  light-coloured 
ball,  it  would  if  it  had  gone  into  the  wrong  pocket 
have  been  counted  as  a  black  ball.  Fortunately  I 
just  warned  him  in  time,  and  he  sent  his  ball  into 
the  right  pocket.  On  a  balance  there  was  only  a  very 
narrow  margin,  two  or  three  in  favour  of  Baker,  so 
that  if  my  brother  had  sent  the  ball  into  the  wrong 
pocket  it  would  actually  have  been  a  case  of  rejection. 
No  doubt  Baker  felt  his  practical  banishment  from 
England  acutely,  but  in  a  way  it  was  the  making  of 
him.  I  mean  it  is  likely  that  had  it  not  been  for 
this  he  would  never  have  had  the  splendid  oppor- 
tunities which  actually  presented  themselves  to  him 
in  the  Russo-Turkish  war  and  in  Egypt.  Surely 
the  proudest  moment  of  his  life  must  have  been  when 


MOSTLY    STEEPLECHASING  103 

the  Colonel  of  his  old  regiment  requested  Baker 
to  place  himself  at  its  head  for  a  brief  while.  It  is 
difficult  to  conceive  a  greater  triumph  for  an  officer 
than  this. 

Less  serious  perhaps  was  the  attempt  made  at 
the  same  club  some  years  later  by  a  small  clique  to 
get  rid  of  me,  because  I  went  to  Carlisle  to  see  that 
no  hitch  occurred  in  connection  with  the  execution 
of  three  murderers  there.  An  ex-High  Sheriff  having 
informed  me  my  name  was  likely  to  be  pricked  for 
the  office  of  sheriff,  I  considered  that  I  was  not  ex- 
ceeding my  duty  in  seeing  to  a  matter  of  this  kind. 
The  attempt  to  remove  my  name  from  the  list  of 
members  of  the  club  proved  an  utter  failure.  Two 
V.  C.  men  led  the  opposition  in  my  favour,  and  an 
overwhelming  majority  voted  against  my  expulsion. 

In  my  diary  for  the  summer  and  early  autumn  of 
1881  were  entries  concerning  cricket  matches,  of 
which  I  rather  fancy  I  was  not  always  magna  fars 
in  either  batting  or  bowling — lawn-tennis,  and — 
haymaking  !  In  the  autumn  and  winter  of  the  same 
year  I  devoted  myself  more  to  fox-hunting  and  shoot- 
ing than  to  chasing  ;  but  on  one  occasion  I  won  a 
race  or  two  at  a  meeting  at  Galleywood  Common  in 
October.  Cartridge  in  a  match  turned  the  tables 
on  Sam,  and  Wild  Georgie  won  the  Hack  Race.  The 
meeting  was  of  a  decidedly  hole-and-corner  char- 
acter, and  was  not  held  under  National  Hunt  Rules. 
We  never  got  paid  our  stakes,  and  perhaps  it  served 
us  right  for  taking  part  in  such  a  bogus  meeting.  I 
recollect  amongst  other  things  that  the  muddled 
starter  asked  me  how  many  horses  there  were  at  the 
post !     In   those    days   they   were   not   so   mightily 


104  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

particular,  and  probably  experiences  similar  to  my 
Galleywood  Common  one  have  fallen  to  the  lot  of 
a  good  many  men  who  rode  much  at  that  time,  and 
were  ready  to  ride  anywhere  if  there  was  a  chance 
of  sport. 

In  its  palmy  days,  though,  Galleywood  had 
amongst  its  patrons  some  very  prominent  sports- 
men, such  as  Admiral  Rous,  General  Wood,  Caledon 
Alexander,  and  Prince  Soltykoff,  all  of  whom  have 
now,  alas  !  joined  the  great  majority. 

Riding  through  the  heavens  rather  than  on  the 
earth  took  my  fancy  in  the  following  year.  But  as 
my  ballooning  expeditions  have  been  invariably 
made  in  the  summer  time,  aeronautics  did  not  greatly 
militate  against  steeplechasing.  Before  1882  was 
very  old,  I  had  been  in  the  saddle  more  than  once 
at  Epsom,  riding  Twelfth  Cake,  Ethiopian,  and  other 
horses  in  Jones's  stables.  My  visits  indeed  to  Epsom 
all  through  the  Eighties  were  neither  few  nor  far 
between,  and  one  and  all  were  directed  to  the  stables 
of  my  old  mentor  Jack  Jones.  The  two  best  cross- 
country jockeys  at  the  time  when  I  first  seriously 
addressed  myself  to  steeplechasing  in  England  were, 
in  my  opinion,  Jack  Jones  and  Bob  I'Anson.  The 
former  taught  me  much  of  what  I  know  about  riding. 
For  nine  years  he  was  top  of  the  tree  amongst  cross- 
country jockeys — a  brilliant  record.  Bewicke  and 
Nightingall  were  worthy  successors  of  Jones  and 
I'Anson. 

At  one  time  and  another  a  good  many  criticisms, 
some  complimentary,  some  the  reverse,  have  been 
passed  on  my  riding,  and  some  years  ago  the  Sforts- 
man  was  discoursing  on  what  is  not  inaptly  called 


MOSTLY   STEEPLECHASING  105 

the  "  free  cant  back,"  which  has  been  identified  with 
my  style  of  horsemanship.  This  so-called  "  cant 
back,"  one  of  the  great  and  obvious  advantages  of 
which  is  the  removal  of  the  weight  in  jumping  from 
of!  the  horse's  shoulder,  was  eminently  characteristic 
of  Jones's  style  of  horsemanship,  and  I  suppose  I 
fell  into  the  same  style  myself  from  riding  so  much 
with  him  at  the  time.  That  superb  rider  Billy 
Morris,  like  Jack  Jones,  was  certainly  a  believer 
in  the  "  cant  back,"  and  I  have  noticed  the  same 
in  Arthur  Nightingall,  and  other  amateur  and  pro- 
fessional riders. 

Here  is  the  reference  in  the  Sportsman — a  very 
friendly  one :  "  Do  not  let  any  one  think  that  I  am 
holding  Sir  Claude  de  Crespigny  up  as  a  model  steeple- 
chase rider,  though  I  will  say  this  for  him — none 
sits  better  over  his  fences  than  he  does.  I  allude 
specially  to  the  free  cant  hack  on  landing,  which  so 
few  ever  master.  Arthur  Nightingall  is  one  of  those 
few,  and  I  have  often  thought  on  seeing  him  landing 
over  a  fence  with  his  horse's  croup  nearly  touching 
his  back,  what  a  lot  he  must  save  his  mount  as  com- 
pared with  the  crouched-up  images  who  are  never  off 
their  horses'  shoulders." 

A  sly  fellow,  when  he  chose,  was  Jack  Jones.  One 
day,  discussing  with  him  the  merits  of  various 
jockeys,  I  remarked  on  the  admirable  riding  of  men 
like  Billy  Morris  and  Greville  Nugent.  "  I  suppose, 
Jack,"  I  said,  "  you  don't  expect  to  see  many  more 
soldier  riders  as  good  as  those  two  ?  "  "  Ah,  indeed, 
no,"  he  replied ;  "  let's  see,  sir ;  Mr.  Greville 
Nugent — ah,  yes,  I  knew  the  gentleman,  and,  if  I 
recollect  aright,  he  was  killed  at  Sandown."     This 


106  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN^S  LIFE 

was  pretty  cool,  coming  from  one  who  not  a  great 
while  before  had  admitted  before  a  coroner's  jury- 
that  he  had  himself  jumped  on  Nugent,  and  been 
the  cause  of  his  death. 

To  return  to  chasing  in  1882.  On  March  13,  1882, 
we  had  our  Champion  Lodge  Steeplechases,  then 
becoming  a  regular  annual  fixture  in  the  East  An- 
glian sporting  world.  This  year  the  whole  country 
side  turned  out  to  see  the  sport,  and  Maldon  was 
quite  a  howling  wilderness.  Some  thousands  of 
spectators  favoured  us  with  their  presence,  and  the 
vehicles  were  most  remarkable  for  their  variety. 
"  Every  sort  of  vehicle,'"  said  a  report,  "  that  would 
run  on  wheels  was  there,  from  the  well-appointed 
barouche  and  fast  drag  to  the  humble  cart  drawn  by 
the  '  poor  man's  Arabian.'  "  The  course  was  almost 
the  same  as  in  the  preceding  year,  but  the  events 
limited  to  four.  Mr.  Bruen  on  his  two  mounts, 
Bunny  and  Cronstadt,  and  my  brother  and  myself 
were  fortunate  enough  to  share  between  us  the  spoils 
on  this  occasion.  The  Hunt  Cup  produced  the  best 
race  ;  Jimmy,  ridden  by  my  brother,  beating  Twelfth 
Cake,  the  favourite,  ridden  by  myself,  by  a  head, 
after  a  sharp  set-to. 

At  Galleywood,  a  fortnight  later,  I  won  the  Bad- 
dow  Steeplechase  on  Twelfth  Cake,  and  recollect  that 
I  beat  Mr.  Tippler's  Lizabeth,  which  was  placed 
second,  owing,  to  some  extent  at  any  rate,  to  the 
kind  coaching  of  the  late  Major  Bringhurst,  who 
knew  the  course  far  better  than  most  of  us.  Bring- 
hurst was  a  good  sportsman  in  very  truth,  and  it 
is  interesting  to  record  the  fact  that  it  was  he  who 
gave  George  Fordham  his  first  winning  mount  on 


MOSTLY   STEEPLECHASING  107 

Hampton,  a  two-year-old,  in  the  Brighton  Stakes, 
fifty-eight  years  ago.  I  sent  a  picture  of  the  jockey 
and  the  horse  to  the  Duke  of  Beaufort,  who  was 
naturally  much  interested  in  all  relating  to  Fordham, 
and  it  is  hung  in  the  smoking-room  at  Badminton. 

A  lesser  event  was  a  match  between  Wild  Georgie 
and  Jimmy,  a  horse  belonging  to,  and  ridden  by,  my 
brother.  They  laid  2  to  1  on  my  mount,  and  two 
hundred  yards  or  so  from  home  Jimmy  was  done 
for,  and  I  was  suffered  to  win  anyhow.  Twelfth  Cake 
came  out  again  in  a  hurdle  race  the  same  day,  but 
was  well  beaten  by  Mr.  J.  Goodwin's  Gold  Finder. 

The  hardest  race  I  ever  rode  in  and  won,  was  over 
this  course  at  Galley  wood.  Part  of  the  course  was 
across  a  field  which  had  been  very  recently  ploughed 
up  by  the  Derby  Digger.  It  was  so  heavy  that  we 
all  had  to  slack  into  a  slow  trot,  and  when  the  horses 
did  get  on  to  turf  again  they  were  one  and  all  utterly 
done.  I  had  never  dreamt  of  such  heavy  going  as 
that  in  all  my  steeplechasing  philosophy,  and  hope 
never  to  experience  anything  like  it  again.  The 
ordinary  ploughed  field  was  nothing  compared  to  it. 

A  note  concerning  the  late  Major  Bringhurst. 
Though  essentially  regarded  as  an  Essex  sportsman, 
his  residence  being  near  Chelmsford,  where  he  passed 
away  at  the  age  of  seventy- three,  the  Major  graduated 
in  horse-training  and  racing  at  Brighton.  After 
retiring  from  the  90th  Foot,  with  whom  he  had  served 
in  South  Africa  and  India,  he  settled  down  in  Sussex, 
and  devoted  his  attention  to  thoroughbreds.  Then 
later  he  migrated  to  us  in  Essex,  where  he  speedily 
became  a  general  favourite.  After  a  while  he  came 
to  be  regarded  as  quite  the  Nestor  of  horse-racing 


108  FOETY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

in  East  Anglia,  and  was  in  great  demand  as  steward 
at  Essex  meetings,  as  also  at  others  outside  the 
county.  He  stuck  to  the  saddle  as  a  fox-hunter  till 
late  in  life.  There  were  other  things  besides  horse- 
racing  and  training  at  which  the  Major  was  an  expert. 
He  was  particularly  clever  as  a  turner  and  carver, 
and  in  many  Essex  houses  are  treasured  up  as  memen- 
toes little  specimens  of  his  handiwork. 

At  Harlow,  on  April  12,  1882,  I  could  only  manage 
second  honours  in  the  Open  Steeplechase,  but  did 
better  at  the  Suffolk  Yeomanry  Cavalry,  on  May  13, 
in  the  last  races  I  was  destined  to  ride  that  year 
owing  to  the  ballooning  accident  at  Maldon.  Twelfth 
Cake  carried  me  to  victory  in  the  Hunt  Cup,  in  which 
Mr.  Rod  well's  Cronstadt,  ridden  by  Mr.  Bruen,  was 
second,  whilst  on  the  same  mount  I  was  second  in 
another  event — the  open  race.  Lyndon,  however, 
was  disqualified,  so  I  secured  this  race  also. 

Though  fully  recovered,  save  for  a  limp,  from  the 
injuries  sustained  in  the  ballooning  mishap  in  June 
1882,  recorded  elsewhere,  I  was  not  sorry  of  an 
opportunity  of  a  complete  change  of  air,  scenery, 
and  sport,  which  a  shooting  and  yachting  expedition 
to  the  Mediterranean  offered.  Early  in  November 
I  started  for  Corfu,  to  join  Joe  Bagot  of  the  60th,  my 
frequent  sniping  companion  in  India  days,  and  Lord 
Churston.  They  had  gone  out  to  the  scene  of  action 
by  P.  and  0.,  having  made  arrangements  to  meet 
their  yacht  on  the  other  side  of  the  Bay.  Our  prime 
object  was  the  shooting  of  woodcock  and  pig  in 
Albania.  The  cock  shooting  in  this  part  of  the  world 
is  some  of  the  best  in  Europe,  but  we  knew  before- 
hand that  it  varied  very  much  from  year  to  year. 


MOSTLY   STEEPLECHASING  109 

One  season  you  may  bag  sixty,  seventy,  or  even  a 
hundred  couple  of  cock  a  day  ;  while  the  next,  per- 
haps not  more  than  fifteen  couple  may  be  killed. 
The  latter  bag,  however,  is,  or  was  a  dozen  years  ago, 
decidedly,  I  should  say,  below  the  average. 

Bagot,  who  is  great  in  the  practical  art  of  equipment 
and  outfit  for  sportsmen,  recommends  for  sport  in 
Albania  and  adjacent  lands  one  or  two  guns  and  a 
good  service  revolver.  A  rifle  he  is  inclined  to  regard 
as  a  superfluous  weapon,  because  for  pig  or  deer  an 
ordinary  smooth-bore  No.  12  is  usually  more  effective 
than  the  best  Express  bullet  manufactured.  As  a 
proof  of  this  he  gives  an  instance  of  where  he  once 
put  two  bullets  from  an  Express  rifle  through  a  boar 
at  about  twenty  yards'  distance,  the  only  apparent 
result  being  an  acceleration  of  the  brute's  pace.  A 
little  later  the  boar  fell  to  a  shot  from  a  12-bore 
handled  by  a  member  of  the  party,  and  when  ex- 
amined, it  turned  out  that  both  Express  bullets  had 
passed  clean  through  without  touching  any  vital 
part.  The  ammunition  difficulty,  as  I  once  found 
when  on  a  shooting  expedition  in  Spain,  is  not 
very  easy  of  solution.  Cartridges  and  powder 
should  be  sent  out  in  the  yacht,  as  there  are  great 
difficulties  experienced  in  getting  them  through  the 
Continent.  Three  or  four  thousand  cartridges,  with  a 
supply  of  bullets,  slugs,  etc.,  should  suffice  for  a  shoot 
of  a  few  weeks'  duration.  Stout  clothes  are  needed, 
as  the  cover  in  Albania  is  of  a  very  thorny  character. 
Some  strongly  advocate  taking  out  English  dogs, 
either  cockers  or  spaniels,  but  it  is  a  moot  point 
whether  it  is  not  better  to  leave  the  native  beaters 
to  provide  them,     A  beater  is  paid  from  £12  to  £14 


110  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

a  month,  and  for  this  he  is  expected  to  supply  dogs 
both  for  cock  and  pig  shooting.  A  small  medicine 
chest  may  be  useful,  and  a  supply  of  quinine. 

Our  yacht,  the  Eva,  which  Bagot  found  for  the 
trip,  was  130  tons,  with  a  crew  of  eight,  besides  two 
stewards  and  a  cook.  Bagot  was  rather  afraid  that 
my  game  leg  might  seriously  hamper  my  move- 
ments over  the  rough  ground  we  were  about  to 
shoot,  but  when  I  reached  Corfu,  where  I  had  agreed 
to  meet  him,  I  scouted  such  an  idea.  Our  first  beats 
were  at  Butrinto  and  Vrarna,  and  resulted  in  moderate 
bags  of  cock,  widgeon,  and  snipe,  with  an  odd  quail 
or  two.  It  was  very  pretty  mixed  shooting,  with 
plenty  of  diversity  and  incident. 

One  incident  in  which  Churston  played  a  promi- 
nent part  afforded  us  much  amusement,  though  it 
might  have  had  a  serious  ending.  A  shot  from  the 
top  of  a  green  ivy-covered  bush  attracted  the  atten- 
tion of  Bagot.  He  repaired  to  the  spot  to  find 
Churston  perched  in  the  bush,  and  surrounded  by 
a  pack  of  savage  Albanian  dogs.  They  were  speedily 
driven  off,  and  then  Churston  told  how  he  had  been 
suddenly,  and  for  no  earthly  reason,  attacked  by 
one  dog,  which  he  managed  to  beat  off.  It  retired 
only  to  bring  up  a  strong  reinforcement.  Churston 
was  then  pressed  so  hard  that  he  was  compelled  to 
back  to  the  nearest  tree,  keeping  the  furious  brutes 
off  as  well  as  he  could  with  the  muzzle  of  his  gun. 
When  he  reached  the  tree  he  returned  the  onslaught 
with  interest,  and  then  made  a  dash  up  into  the 
lowest  branch,  one  dog  actually  taking  a  piece  out 
of  his  coat  as  he  whisked  out  of  reach.  These 
Albanian  dogs  ar^  of  a  most  vicious  breed,  but  their 


MOSTLY   STEEPLECHASING  111 

masters  set  great  store  by  them,  and  have  no  scruple 
about  knifing  any  stranger  who  kills  one. 

Waterfowl  shooting  we  found  an  interesting  form 
of  sport  at  Butrinto,  our  first  bag  consisting  of  twenty- 
two  ducks,  besides  teal  and  divers,  with  a  few  snipe. 
At  Pagania  we  had  our  first  boar  drive.  Nine  or 
ten  Albanians,  all  armed  to  the  teeth  as  though  they 
were  going  into  battle,  were  employed  as  beaters,  and 
these  men  brought  a  dog  or  so  apiece.  The  head 
beater  decided  on  the  place  of  action,  and  stationed 
us  at  various  points.  Then,  all  being  ready,  at  a  given 
signal  the  drive  commenced,  and  wild  shouts,  varied 
by  the  occasional  discharge  of  a  pistol,  marked  the 
progress  of  the  beaters.  Suddenly  the  dogs  would 
give  tongue,  the  beaters  raise  a  greater  uproar  than 
ever,  and  one  or  perhaps  several  black  objects  dart 
through  the  underwood  at  such  a  rate  as  to  be  scarcely 
distinguishable.  A  boar  will  carry  a  good  deal  of  lead, 
and  two  or  three  shots  would  be  sometimes  needed 
to  bring  one  to  book.  It  is  a  stirring  sight  to  see 
the  wounded  animal  dart  out  of  its  retreat  with  great 
flakes  of  foam  flying  from  its  tusks,  and  its  eyes 
gleaming  like  fire-balls.  Unless  speedily  found  by 
the  gunners,  a  wounded  one  will  attract  a  crowd  of 
hungry  vultures  and  jackals.  A  few  days  after  our 
first  hunt,  the  head  beater  discovered  a  couple  of 
tusks,  which  were  about  all  that  remained  of  a  pig 
we  had  hit  several  times,  but  had  not  successfully 
followed  up. 

Nor  was  the  sport  confined  to  the  game  already 
mentioned.  Besides  boar,  cock,  snipe,  and  waterfowl, 
one  of  the  party  went  eagle-shooting  with  success. 
Near  Dragomastre  there  was  some  very  pretty  shoot- 


112  FOETY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

ing  at  pigeons.  At  a  cave  we  waited  for  the  birds 
to  come  in  after  feeding.  In  point  of  numbers  our 
sport  was  very  far  behind  that  once  enjoyed  by  Lord 
Londesborough  on  the  Nile,  when  he  killed  hundreds 
of  birds  with  his  ordinary  12-bore  in  a  single  day ; 
but  none  the  less  it  was  excellent  fun  bringing  down 
these  wild  blue  rock,  which  were  as  quick  as  lightning. 
The  country,  by  the  way,  in  this  district  was,  and  very 
likely  is  now,  rather  barbarous,  the  populace  being 
of  a  distinctly  cut-throat  disposition,  and  by  no 
means  above  a  little  brigandage  on  occasions.  It 
is  advisable  to  go  about  well  armed,  and  if  possible 
in  a  party. 

The  first  chases  in  which  I  engaged  after  returning 
from  this  shooting  expedition  in  the  East,  were  at 
Chelmsford  on  April  5, 1883.  I  won  the  Steeplechase 
Plate  that  day,  beating  Chance — P.  Tippler  up — my 
mount  being  Twelfth  Cake,  whom  shortly  before 
the  race  I  had  made  a  present  of  to  my  brother.  I 
also  was  victorious  in  the  Military  Steeplechase  on 
Pictus,  a  horse  belonging  to  Percy  Coke  of  the  15th. 
Bohemia,  ridden  by  the  owner,  George  Hayhurst, 
was  second ;  and  Mr.  Chaston's  Wild  Irishman^ 
ridden  by  Mr.  Beever,  third  in  this  race. 

As  a  rule  when  your  horse  makes  a  mistake  in 
steeplechasing  it  is  all  over  so  far  as  that  particular 
race  is  concerned,  unless  your  opponents  also  blunder. 
This  fact  has  been  borne  in  upon  me  again  and  again 
in  the  course  of  nearly  forty  years'  experience 
of  racing.  But  exceptions  there  are  now  and  then 
that  prove  the  rule.  This  race  at  Chelmsford  was  one 
of  these,  for  Pictus  came  down  as  we  were  jumping 
in  and  out  of  the  course.     I  was  just  picking  myself 


MOSTLY   STEEPLECHASING  113 

up  when  another  horse  jumped  right  into  my  saddle, 
and  struck  me  clear  of  my  horse,  at  the  same  time 
coming  down  itself.  Whereupon  my  horse  trotted 
away  down  the  course.  I  gave  chase,  caught  him 
up,  remounted,  and  went  in  pursuit  of  the  other 
horses  that  had  passed  us.  I  came  up  with  them 
in  a  few  hundred  yards,  and  just  beating  Bohemia, 
who  was  trained  in  the  same  stable  as  Pictus,  won 
the  race.  That  was  a  field-day,  by  the  bye,  for  our 
stable,  which  was  in  the  hands  of  Jack  Jones.  Be- 
tween us  we  managed  to  win  four  out  of  five  races, 
not  entering  in  the  fifth.  I  won  two,  "  Billy  '* 
Morris  a  third,  and  George  Hayhurst  of  the  Fusihers 
the  fourth. 

The  owner  of  Pictus  was  so  pleased  at  the  result 
of  this  race,  that  he  presented  me  with  a  pair  of  silver 
candlesticks,  which  recall  not  the  least  pleasant 
memories  among  my  various  sporting  trophies. 

Percy  Coke  is  a  rare  driver,  and  when  put  on  his 
mettle  pretty  reckless  of  consequences.  I  hope  he 
will  not  be  offended  if  I  illustrate  this  by  a  story 
which  certainly  does  him  no  discredit.  Driving  to 
Aldershot  station,  he  found  the  road,  which  was 
being  repaired,  blocked  by  a  pole  stretched  across  it. 
He  asked  a  navvy,  who  was  on  guard,  to  remove  the 
impediment  to  allow  of  his  getting  to  the  station. 
The  man  flatly  refused.  Percy  therefore,  remarking 
that  his  horse  was  "  good  at  timber,"  drove  him  at 
it.  There  was  an  upset,  followed  by  a  general  set-to, 
as  this  headlong  intrusion  was  resented  by  the  road- 
menders.  The  navvy  went  for  Percy  :  Percy  gave 
him  a  couy  de  'pied,  as  he  stooped  to  pick  up  a  brick- 
bat, which  sent  him  flying  head   foremost  into  his 

8 


114  FOETY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

own  heap  of  mortar.  Another  time  he  was  driving 
to  the  same  station  after  some  steeplechases.  As 
we  whirled  round  a  corner,  more  on  one  wheel  than 
two,  we  passed  Billy  Morris.  His  face  was  a  treat ; 
"  Poor  Claude  !  "  it  seemed  to  say,  "  he's  survived 
the  steeplechases  only  to  be  killed  by  Percy  Coke's 
mad  driving. 

Twelfth  Cake  continued  to  flourish  after  passing 
out  of  my  hands,  and  won  the  Aldershot  Cup  with 
my  brother  up  a  week  after  the  Chelmsford  Chases. 
My  new  love  was  Shepardess,  a  mare  my  brother  and 
I  purchased  from  Jones.  Shepardess  began  pretty 
well,  winning  for  me  Brassey's  Cup  at  Sevenoaks  in 
May  1883,  when  she  started  7  to  4  on,  and  won  by 
twenty  lengths.  My  chief  opponents  were  so  dead 
beat  on  this  occasion,  the  going  being  heavy,  that 
both  horse  and  rider  appeared  to  run  their  heads 
clean  into  a  clover  rick  just  off  the  course. 

In  the  summer  of  this  year  I  rode  on  the  flat 
at  the  Bibury  meeting,  Shepardess  being  matched 
against  Morning  Star,  the  property  of  Fred  Beauclerk. 
I  walked  over,  and  this  was  the  only  win — if  it  can 
be  so  called — that  the  mare  scored  after  Brassey's 
Cup.  She  was  a  roarer,  and  turned  out  quite  a 
failure,  never  doing  anything  afterwards. 

"  Give  a  dog  a  bad  name  and  hang  him."  The 
downward  grade,  swift  and  sure,  of  the  late  Marquess 
of  Ailesbury,  afforded,  I  think,  an  excellent  object- 
lesson  in  the  truth  of  this  old  saw.  Ailesbury,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  never  had  a  chance  of  retrieving 
himself.  He  began  to  go  wrong,  and  at  once  every- 
body's voice  was  raised  against  him.  Yet  to  start 
with  he  was  an  excellent  good  fellow,  and  a  thorough 


MOSTLY   STEEPLECHASING  115 

gentleman.  Knowing  this  full  well,  I  ventured  to 
make  a  stand  for  him  when  he  was  going  downhill 
so  awfully  quick.  I  worked  hard  to  get  him  elected 
a  member  of  the  Bibury  Club,  and  elected  he  actually 
was.  Unfortunately  it  came  too  late.  He  had  sunk 
too  deep  in  the  slough  of  evil  companionship,  and 
nothing  could  save  him.  The  public  have  never 
seen  any  save  the  dark  side  of  Ailesbury,  and  they 
formed  their  estimate  of  him  on  that  alone.  But 
there  was  plenty  of  good  in  the  fellow  at  one  time, 
and  I  shall  always  beUeve  that  the  hue  and  cry  was 
responsible  for  his  ultimate  utter  degradation.  It 
is  only  fair  to  say  that  what  influence  his  wife  had 
over  him  when  he  began  going  altogether  wrong  was 
salutary.  A  few  words  from  her  could,  and  often 
did,  stop  a  volley  of  oaths. 

No  doubt  the  Jockey  Club  knew  what  they  were 
doing  when  they  warned  Ailesbury  off,  and  had 
more  evidence  against  his  past  career  on  the  turf 
than  was  actually  divulged.  But  I  must  say  that  he 
was  overtly  condemned  for  directions  which  are,  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  used  again  and  again  by  owners  to 
jockeys  without  getting  them  into  trouble.  "  Cut 
it  fine  ''  is  often  the  injunction  given  to  a  perfectly 
straight  jockey  by  an  equally  straight  owner.  It  has 
been  given  to  me  on  at  least  one  occasion  when  I 
have  been  riding  for  another  man.  At  Galleywood 
I  can  recollect  being  asked  by  the  owner  of  the  horse 
I  was  riding  not  to  come  away  till  over  the  last 
fence.  I  carried  the  injunction  out  faithfully,  and 
won  without  taking  it  too  much  out  of  my  mount. 
It  was  rather  amusing  to  see  the  glowing  accounts 
of  my  horsemanship  in  the  papers,  which  declared 


116  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN^S  LIFE 

that  I  just  managed  to  win  with  fine  judgment, 
etc. 

Sporran,  by  Grouse  out  of  a  half-bred  mare,  proved 
at  least  a  better  investment  than  the  jade  Shepardess. 
The  first  race  he  won  me  was  the  Steeplechase  Plate 
at  Chelmsford  in  March  1884.  I  found  I  could  not 
ride  the  weight  myself,  so  put  up  a  gunner,  who  won 
the  race  for  me. 

The  Champion  Lodge  Steeplechases  were  on  April  1 
of  that  year.  We  had  as  usual  a  goodly  concourse 
of  Essex  folk,  with  more  than  a  sprinkling  of  people 
from  beyond  our  own  neighbourhood.  Sir  Charles 
Staveley  was  amongst  our  guests.  His  relations  with 
Gordon  are  familiar  to  many  people,  and  it  may  be 
worth  noticing  that  one  of  the  very  last  communi- 
cations through  the  post  ever  received  by  an  English- 
man from  the  General  in  beleaguered  Khartoum, 
came  into  the  hands  of  Sir  Charles  on  the  Champion 
Lodge  Course  during  the  annual  steeplechases.  It 
came  in  the  shape  of  a  postcard,  and  caused  a  con- 
siderable sensation,  everybody's  mind  at  the  time 
being  full  of  Gordon. 

The  Stewards  included  the  Duke  of  Hamilton, 
the  Marquess  of  Queensberry,  and  Colonel  Byrne  ; 
Charley  Page  Wood  acted  as  both  starter  and  clerk 
of  the  scales  ;  whilst  Holroyd  was  judge.  As  usual 
we  had  glorious  weather — our  steeplechases  have 
always  been  most  fortunate  in  this  respect — and 
some  fair  sport.  There  were  eight  events  on  the  card, 
including  a  match  between  Wild  Georgie  and  Rizpah, 
which  did  not  however  come  off,  as  the  latter  went 
lame.  The  first  race  was  the  Point  to  Point,  over 
which  there  was  some  brisk  speculation,  the  book- 


MOSTLY   STEEPLECHASING  117 

making  fraternity  being  present  in  force.  Sporran, 
with  myself  up,  started  a  pretty  hot  favourite — 6  to 
4  on — after  his  recent  victory  at  Chelmsford.  It 
turned  out  anything  but  a  hollow  thing,  however, 
as  Waggoner,  the  third  favourite,  ridden  by  Mr. 
Fellowes,  the  brother  of  the  owner,  Mrs.  Coope,  was 
beaten  by  no  more  than  a  neck.  The  Coopes'  stable 
was  more  fortunate  in  the  Hunt  Cup  and  the  Con- 
solation, both  of  which  they  secured,  the  first  with 
Pat,  steered  by  Billy  Morris,  and  the  second  with 
Jack,  steered  by  Mr.  Rodwell. 

Lady  de  Crespigny's  Zante  started  favourite  for 
the  Ladies'  Cup,  but  I  did  not  succeed  in  getting 
placed,  the  event  falling  to  Mrs.  Reid's  Lady  Alice, 
ridden  by  Mr.  Fellowes.  Sporran  had  a  walk  over 
for  the  Loyal  Suffolk  Hussars'  Cup,  and  Mr.  Rust's 
Architect  won  the  Farmers'  Cup,  starting  second 
favourite. 

April  3,  1884,  Ipswich. — Here  I  won  the  Sud- 
bourne  Plate  Hurdle  Race  on  a  recent  purchase  of 
my  brother's,  Elmina.  Jack  Jones  was  present,  and 
there  had  been  some  talk  as  to  whether  he  or  I  should 
ride  the  mare.  I  gave  him  his  choice,  acknowledging 
the  superiority  of  his  horsemanship  by  pointing  out 
that  if  he  rode  she  would  start  2  to  1  on,  and  if  I  rode 
then  the  odds  would  probably  be  3  to  1  against. 
This  reasoning  appeared  to  Jones  to  be  sound,  and 
he  voted  in  favour  of  my  having  the  mount.  The 
only  dangerous  horse  came  to  grief  at  the  first  flight 
of  hurdles,  and  after  that  there  was  not  much  doubt, 
in  my  own  mind  at  any  rate,  as  to  the  result,  though 
there  appeared  to  have  been  some  in  others.  The 
mare  won  easily  enough. 


118  FOKTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

Possibly  had  it  not  been  for  a  mistake  made  by 
Grayson  in  this  race,  Elmina  might  have  been 
pressed  a  Httle  bit  more,  though  I  do  not  think,  bar 
accidents,  she  could  have  lost.  At  the  last  flight 
Grayson  rode  at  the  outside  hurdle,  and  was  carried 
over  the  rope.  Personally,  I  have  always  made 
a  rule  on  Ipswich  racecourse,  when  there  were  no 
wings  at  the  hurdles,  of  riding  at  about  the  centre 
hurdle. 

A  change  of  scene  next  found  me  on  April  1,  1884, 
at  the  Vale  of  White  Horse  Steeplechases,  where  I 
could  not  do  better  than  get  third  place  in  the  open 
chases  on  Mytton's  Maid,  who  was  a  bit  thick  in 
the  wind.  The  following  month,  however,  I  won  on 
Captain  Barkley's  Hurdy  Gurdy  in  the  Regimental 
Races  at  Ipswich,  and  so  wound  up  the  spring  chasing 
season  of  1884  with  a  measure  of  success.  This  race 
was  on  May  23,  and  on  the  following  day  Simmons 
and  myself  made  an  ascent  in  the  "  Colonel,"  and 
after  a  voyage  of  four  hours  and  seven  minutes  came 
down,  not  without  a  narrow  escape,  between  St. 
Ives  and  Huntingdon.  Thus  I  made  three  eventful 
balloon  voyages  in  three  successive  years,  1882,  1883, 
and  1884.  Perhaps  I  may  boast  of  having  achieved 
a  world's  record  in  winning  a  race  and  making  a 
balloon  ascent  well  within  the  space  of  twenty-four 
hours. 

Though  attending  at  Stockbridge  in  the  summer 
of  1884,  I  did  not  ride  on  the  flat,  but  contented 
myself  with  being  a  spectator  of  the  sport,  and  in 
taking  part  in  the  Bibury  Ballot.  The  next  entry  in 
my  diary  is  as  follows  : — "  Wye.  Won  Selhng  Hurdle 
Race  on  Baron  Hill :    to  London  for  Balloon  Cen- 


MOSTLY   STEEPLECHASING  119 

tenary  afterwards."  This  Baron  Hill  was  bred  by- 
Sir  Richard  Bulkeley  at  Baron  Hill.  He  was  an 
own  brother  of  the  mare  Elmina.  Jones  and  I 
differed  a  good  deal  in  relation  to  this  horse,  I 
believing  him  to  be  honest,  and  Jones  being  equally 
positive  that  he  was  a  rogue.  I  took  him  as  I  found 
him,  and  with  me  the  horse  always  behaved  well 
enough.  However,  nothing  would  dissuade  Jones, 
who  still  viewed  Baron  Hill  with  disapproval  after 
he  had  been  entered  in  this  Wye  Selling  Race  and 
had  won  it.  A  short  time  before  Jones  had  ridden 
him  at  Chandler's  Ford,  a  course  near  Winchester 
and  just  outside  Cranberry  Park,  which  has  since 
been  abolished.  I  gave  him  ten  sovereigns  to  put 
on  the  horse,  but  saw  none  of  it  back,  as  he  got 
badly  beaten.  After  the  Wye  race  Baron  Hill  passed 
into  the  hands  of  Arthur  Yates,  and,  beyond  winning 
one  small  race  for  him,  seems  to  have  done  very  httle 
good.  Curiously  enough,  a  brother  officer  was  riding 
to  hounds  somewhere  in  the  Midlands  on  a  horse 
lent,  I  suppose,  by  a  friend.  It  behaved  anything 
save  well,  and  the  thought  suddenly  flashed  across 
him,  "  Why,  this  must  be  Baron  Hill !  "  When  he 
looked  into  the  matter,  he  felt  convinced  that  he  had 
stumbled  on  the  truth,  and  told  me  so  the  next  time 
we  met.  He  had  known  the  animal  in  its  chasing 
career,  and  when  it  belonged  to  me. 

As  mentioned  in  an  earlier  chapter,  I  usually  make 
a  rule,  like  many  other  jockeys,  of  critically  ex- 
amining a  course  before  riding.  But  on  this  occa- 
sion at  Wye  I  had  not  time  to  do  so.  I  therefore 
followed  in  the  wake  of  Sensier  the  first  time  round, 
when  his  horse  broke  down.     By  that  time  I  had 


120  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

learnt  all  I  need  know  about  the  course,  and  was 
enabled  to  win  my  race. 

I  repaired  to  this  Wye  meeting  with  Arthur  Yates, 
who  was  running  a  horse  there  in  the  first  race 
against  mine,  and  rather  fancied  him  too.  The 
trains,  we  found,  ran  so  unkindly  that  I  deemed  it  to 
be  practically  impossible  for  me  to  be  in  time  to  ride 
Baron  Hill  myself,  and  therefore  wired  to  Billy 
Morris,  asking  him  to  do  so.  But  there  were  pro- 
fessional jockeys  riding  in  the  race,  and  had  Morris 
complied  with  my  request,  he  would  have  lost  his 
weight  allowance  in  Irish  steeplechases.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  though  it  was  a  great  rush,  I  did 
arrive  on  the  course  at  Wye  just  in  the  nick  of  time 
to  ride.  Jack  Jones,  hearing  of  the  incident  after- 
wards, remarked  that  I  was  luckier  than  he  and  his 
friends  were  on  one  occasion,  when,  having  missed 
the  train,  they  had  a  special,  put  three  hundred  on 
their  horse,  and  got  beaten  a  head. 

At  Wye  once  I  recollect  being  assaulted  in  rather 
a  curious  way,  though  perfectly  unconscious  of  having 
injured  or  offended  anybody.  As  the  crowd  rushed 
over  the  course  at  the  end  of  a  race,  a  fellow  struck  my 
horse  with  considerable  force ;  I  charged  right  into  the 
crowd  after  him,  and  in  so  doing  got  a  tremendous 
cut  across  the  thigh  from  another  man,  probably  his 
pal.  I  suppose  they  were  wild  at  my  not  having 
won  the  race  in  which  they  may  have  backed  me. 

A  first-class  rider,  and  the  straightest  of  jockeys, 
was  poor  Sensier.  On  a  good  horse  he  had  scarcely 
a  superior  in  the  steeplechasing  world,  though  on  a 
bad  one  there  were  one  or  two  rivals,  notably  Dollery, 
who  were  generally  admitted  to  be  stronger. 


MOSTLY   STEEPLECHASING  121 

An  item  concerning  Yates  : — Once  at  a  meeting 
at  Somerleyton,  Sir  Savile  Crossley's  place  near 
Lowestoft,  I  did  not  miss  a  single  race.  I  rode  eight 
out  of  eight,  winning  two  and  being  placed  second 
in  several  others.  This  record  pales,  as  probably  do 
all  others,  before  that  of  Arthur  Yates,  who  once  at 
Kingsbury  rode  seven  races  in  the  day  and  won 
them  all ! 


CHAPTER  V 

SOME  BALLOONING  EXPERIENCES 

TT  was  not  until  the  year  1882,  some  time  after  I 
-^  had  finally  settled  down  in  my  Essex  home, 
that  I  first  began  to  seriously  turn  my  attention  to 
ballooning,  and  resolved  to  engage  in  this  most  fas- 
cinating and  exciting  pursuit.  I  had  seen,  however, 
something  of  ballooning  many  years  before,  during 
the  Franco-Prussian  War,  when,  as  I  have  already 
stated,  we  used  to  ride  after,  and  shoot  at,  the  bold 
aeronauts  who  ascended  from  Paris  during  the  siege. 
Altogether  sixty-six  of  these  balloons  were  sent  up 
from  Paris,  and  they  held  168  persons.  Fifty-two 
fell  in  France,  five  in  Belgium,  four  in  Holland,  two 
in  Prussia,  whilst  two  came  down  into  the  sea.  The 
number  which  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Prussians 
was  eighteen,  some  of  which  were  more  or  less  riddled 
by  our  bullets.  Gambetta,  it  may  be  recollected, 
ventured  to  ascend  from  Paris  in  one  of  these  balloons, 
and,  for  what  I  know,  he  may  have  been  shot  at. 
One  balloon,  named  '*  Ville  d'Orleans,"'  actually 
crossed  the  water  safely,  and  came  down  on  November 
25,  1870,  in  Norway.  The  aeronaut  in  this  case 
was  a  Monsieur  RoUin.    He  made  his  descent  close 

122 


SOME   BALLOONING   EXPERIENCES    123 

to  Christiania,  after  having  travelled  no  less  than 
750  leagues — a  remarkable  voyage,  which  he  ac- 
comphshed  in  rather  less  than  fifteen  hours.  The 
remains  of  a  balloon  were,  a  long  while  after  the  last 
of  these  ascents,  discovered  in  Iceland.  It  was 
supposed  that  it  had  come  thither  from  Paris.  The 
balloon  sent  up  by  the  besieged  Parisians  contained 
upwards  of  ten  and  a  half  milUon  letters,  etc.,  some 
of  which  were  duly  answered  by  the  aid  of  carrier 
pigeons. 

Colonel  Burnaby  had  more  than  once  dilated  to 
me  on  the  pleasures  to  be  derived  from  ballooning, 
and  this,  combined  with  what  I  saw  during  the  siege 
of  Paris,  had  much  to  do  with  my  resolve  to  become 
an  aeronaut.,  Burnaby,  Hke  most  other  aeronauts, 
has  been  often  accused  of  recklessness  and  utter  dis- 
regard of  danger,  but  it  cannot  be  denied  that  he 
applied  himself  to  the  scientific  side  of  ballooning. 
It  is  more  than  thirty-five  years  since  he  made  a 
notable  ascent  in  the  company  of  an  enthusiastic 
fellow-officer  in  the  Guards,  from  the  Crystal  Palace. 
Burnaby  on  that  occasion  tried  a  machine  which  he 
had  himself  devised  with  the  idea  of  ascertaining 
the  course  of  the  wind  above  the  clouds,  when  the 
earth  was  concealed.  I  cannot  say  that  the  machine 
was  ever  used  to  my  knowledge  by  such  skilled 
aeronauts  as  Dale  and  Simmons,  but  the  trial  in 
question  was  described  at  the  time  as  a  decidedly 
satisfactory  one. 

So  great  is  the  dread  entertained  by  many  people 
of  exposing  themselves  to  the  shghtest  danger  of 
accident — though  the  same  persons  often  think 
nothing  of  leading  the  most  unhealthy  fives,  of  de- 


124  FOKTY  YEAES  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

stroying  the  digestion,  and  shattering  the  whole 
nervous  system  by  almost  every  means  in  their  power 
— that  it  is  easy  to  understand  the  abhorrence  and 
even  contempt  with  which  ballooning  used  to  be 
regarded  in  some  quarters — though  now  the  remark- 
able strides  made  by  the  science  of  aviation  are 
beginning  to  open  people's  eyes  a  bit. 

Every  person  who  ventured  oflt  the  solid  earth  in 
those  days  had  to  be  prepared  to  hear  of  himself 
being  described  as  a  madman.     In  the  same  way  the 
boldest   mountaineers   lay   themselves   open   to   the 
charge    of    being   crazy,    and   Arctic   explorers   are 
often  placed  in  the  same  category.     Of  old  we  were 
accustomed  to  regard   the  pleasures   and   perils  of 
exploration  on  land  and  sea,  as  well  as  in  the  sky,  in 
a  very  different  spirit.     It  is  not  too  much  to  say, 
that   many   of   the   greatest   discoveries   of   modern 
times,  which  have  increased  the  resources  and  the 
wealth   of   mankind,   would   not   have   been   made, 
except  for  a   dauntless  spirit  of    adventure.      Had 
Columbus  entertained  the  exaggerated  dread  of  ex- 
posing  himself    to  unknown   danger,  which    is  too 
noticeable  a  feature  of  to-day,  he  would  not  have 
paved  the  way  for  the  opening  up  of  continents.     It 
can  certainly  not  be  said  that  he  undertook  the  dis- 
covery of  the  New  World  from  commercial  objects 
or    for    purely    scientific    purposes.     The    spirit    of 
adventure  and   of  daring  and   suffering   all  things 
moved  him,  as,  according  to  the  dehghtful  old  Greek 
tradition,  it  moved  Ulysses,  even  in  his  extreme  old 
age,  to  leave  sceptre  and  isle,  and  "  sail  beyand  the 
sunset "  in  search  of  a  newer  world. 

It  is  possible,  however,  that  if  some  of  the  least 


SOME   BALLOONING    EXPERIENCES    125 

adventurous  people  could  only  realize  the  unspeak- 
able splendour  which  so  swiftly  opens  out  to  the 
gaze  of  the  aerial  traveller,  they  would  admit  that 
ballooning  has  great  and  natural  attractions.  The 
sensations  the  aeronaut  experiences  in  the  ascent,  and 
during  his  voyage  through  the  skies,  are  pleasurable 
beyond  description.  The  motion  of  the  balloon  is 
perfectly  smooth  and  easy,  no  matter  how  quickly 
the  wind  is  travelling,  which  is  to  be  accounted  for 
by  the  fact  that  the  balloon  goes  with  the  wind. 
There  is  not  the  slightest  resistance  to  the  air,  and 
consequently  no  disagreeable  motion.  On  the  perfect 
tranquillity  that  prevails  in  the  heavens  I  have  dwelt 
elsewhere.  In  the  descent  a  jarring  is  sometimes 
experienced,  and  of  course  both  before  the  balloon 
has  got  fairly  away  from  the  earth,  and  also  after 
it  has  in  coming  down  been  impeded  by  the  grapnel 
or  by  unwelcome  obstacles,  sensations  may  be  ex- 
perienced the  reverse  of  agreeable.  Indeed,  the  great 
majority  of  the  accidents  occur  in  the  ascent  and 
descent. 

So  remarkable  is  this  tranquil  and  easy  motion 
through  the  air,  that  the  aeronaut  is  scarcely  aware 
of  the  rate  at  which  he  is  travelling.  Mr.  Green, 
the  well-known  balloonist,  was  once  carried  away 
at  lightning  speed  by  a  furious  whirlwind,  and  yet 
knew  nothing  about  it.  He  was  even  unaware  that 
he  was  moving  at  exceptional  speed  !  Not  till  he 
approached  the  earth,  and  marked  there  the  fury  of 
the  wind,  which  threatened  to  tear  the  grapnel  from 
its  hold,  did  he  realize  the  situation. 

As  to  the  scenery  which  the  aeronaut  enjoys,  it  is 
often   beautiful   beyond   compare.     The   rising   and 


126  FOETY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

the  setting  sun  as  seen  by  the  balloonist  are  more 
brilUant  and  thousand-hued  than  even  the  mind  of 
Turner  conceived.  Mr.  Glaisher  saw  both  spectacles. 
He  witnessed  the  sun  rising  on  an  autumnal  morning. 
Ascending  slowly  above  the  clouds,  the  aeronaut  saw 
the  sun  rise,  flooding  with  light  the  whole  extent  of 
cloudland  beyond,  which  glistened  under  its  beams 
like  a  lake  of  pure  gold.  "  Grouped  around  the  car,'* 
he  said,  "  both  above  and  below,  there  were  clouds 
of  alpine  character  sloping  to  their  bases  in  glistening 
light,  or  towering  upwards  in  sheets  of  shining  vapour, 
which  added  the  charm  of  contrast  to  the  splendid 
tints  of  sunrise."  Then  suddenly  the  clouds  spread 
round  ocean-like,  and  continually  changing  their 
forms,  "  suddenly  gathered  themselves  into  mountain 
heaps  and  closed  all  round,  hiding  the  sun  in  neutral- 
tinted  gloom."  Quite  as  dazzling  in  its  splendour 
was  a  sunset  once  seen  by  Tissandier  when  ballooning 
over  France  ;  but  perhaps  Mr.  Glaisher  was  most 
fortunate  of  all  aerial  voyagers,  when  he  once  viewed 
London  at  night.  The  air  was  perfectly  clear,  and 
the  great  city,  with  its  milhons  of  lights,  looked  a 
very  Milky  Way  of  the  earth.  So  free  from  mist  and 
fog  was  the  atmosphere,  that  he  was  able  to  dis- 
tinctly see  persons  moving  along  Oxford  Street,  with 
their  very  shadows  cast  upon  the  pavements. 

General  Brine's  unsuccessful  attempt  to  reach  the 
French  coast  in  1882,  and  Burnaby's  successful  one 
in  March  of  the  same  year,  made  me  impatient  to 
cross  the  water  myself,  either  the  Channel  or  the 
North  Sea.  Brine  in  the  company  of  Simmons  made 
an  ascent  from  Canterbury  early  in  1882,  with  the 
object  of  crossing  over  to  the  French  coast,   but 


SOME   BALLOONING   EXPEKIENCES    127 

owing  to  a  sudden  and  quite  unlooked-for  change  in 
the  wind — a  danger  which  the  aeronaut  of  course 
cannot  guard  against — drifted  out  to  the  North  Sea. 
The  aeronauts  therefore  had  to  take  to  the  water, 
where  fortunately  they  were  picked  up  by  the  Foam. 

Burnaby  cherished  the  belief  that  under  certain 
conditions  the  aeronaut  might  be  able  to  overcome 
a  difficulty  such  as  Brine  and  Simmons  experienced 
when  the  wind  suddenly  began  to  change  and  blow 
them  out  toward  the  German  Ocean.  He  said  he 
beUeved  that  when  the  wind  was  blowing  in  one 
direction  at  a  certain  height  in  the  atmosphere  it 
would  very  likely  be  blowing  in  a  directly  contrary 
direction  at  another  one.  Thus,  his  idea  was,  that  the 
aeronaut  might  in  many  cases,  finding  the  wind 
against  him,  ascend  to  a  much  greater  height,  and 
try  his  luck  there.  Unfortunately  this  cannot  always 
be  done  with  safety,  as  Messrs.  Coxwell  and  Glaisher 
found  out.  It  would  be  a  rash  experiment  to  make 
when  placed  as  Brine  and  Simmons  were,  for  suppos- 
ing they  had  ascended  to  a  great  height,  and  still 
found  the  wind  in  the  same  direction,  the  delay  of  a 
few  minutes  might  have  cost  both  of  them  their  lives. 

Early  in  June  1882  my  own  arrangements  were 
complete  for  a  trip  across  the  water.  Simmons,  the 
brave  and  skilful  aeronaut,  with  whom  I  made 
my  later  ascents,  arrived  at  Maldon  on  June  10, 
1882,  with  his  balloon,  and  next  day  the  process  of 
inflation  was  commenced.  My  sister  Agnes,  not  to 
be  deterred  by  the  experiences  of  Madame  Durouf, 
fully  intended  to  accompany  us,  but  Simmons  decided 
that  it  would  be  advisable  to  take  as  much  ballast 
as  possible,   and  our  plan  had  accordingly  to  be 


128  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

modified  in  this  respect.  As  tlie  morning  wore  on 
Simmons  began  to  entertain  serious  doubts  as  to  quite 
a  different  matter.  The  wind,  though  in  the  right 
direction,  blowing  towards  Calais,  was  very  boisterous, 
and  under  these  circumstances  the  aeronaut  thought 
it  his  duty  to  warn  me  through  Mr.  Waller,  who  was 
managing  the  preparations,  against  making  the 
ascent  at  all.  I  could  not  think,  however,  of  putting 
off  the  expedition,  and  resolved,  come  what  might, 
to  brave  the  breeze.  So  between  twelve  and  one 
o'clock,  in  the  presence  of  a  great  concourse  of 
people,  including  Lady  de  Crespigny  and  several 
members  of  my  family,  we  got  into  the  car,  and  at 
once  attempted  the  ascent.  Everything  would  have 
no  doubt  gone  off  right  enough  had  the  men  who 
were  holding  down  the  balloon  released  her  at  the 
right  moment,  just  when  Simmons  gave  the  order. 
They  delayed  ;  and  as  a  consequence  the  car  was 
dragged  across  the  field,  and  dashed  with  great  vio- 
lence against  a  brick  wall. 

All  this  occurred  in  considerably  less  time  than 
it  takes  to  write  it.  Directly  I  perceived  that  a 
dangerous  collision  was  inevitable,  unless  it  could  be 
averted  by  a  great  effort  of  strength  at  the  critical 
moment,  I  took  up  as  firm  a  position  as  possible,  and 
sitting  on  the  side  of  the  car  endeavoured  with  my 
left  leg  to  push  off  from  the  wall.  The  task  was 
probably  beyond  human  strength,  and,  as  it  was,  my 
leg  was  crushed  between  the  car  and  the  balloon. 
Curiously  enough,  I  was  not  fully  conscious  of  the 
injury  I  had  sustained  till  I  felt  the  bones  grating, 
and  glancing  down,  saw  that  my  foot  was  at  right 
angles  to  its  natural  position.     A  friend  was  standing 


SOME   BALLOONINa   EXPERIENCES    129 

close  by  amongst  the  spectators,  and  I  remarked  to 
him,  "  My  leg's  broken."  He  leant  over  the  side  of 
the  balloon,  and  took  hold  of  the  right  leg.  I  said, 
"  No,  not  the  right,  the  left  one."  There  now  seemed 
to  be  every  prospect  of  the  balloon  getting  away, 
and  I  did  not  like  the  idea  of  a  trip  across  the 
Channel  with  a  broken  leg.  To  say  nothing  of  the 
discomfort  of  a  journey  under  such  circumstances, 
there  would  probably  be  danger  in  the  descent,  which 
often  entails  a  good  deal  of  jarring.  I  therefore 
managed  to  raise  myself  by  means  of  the  ropes  on 
to  the  side  of  the  car,  and  was  then  assisted  out 
backwards.  An  examination  showed  that  my  leg 
was  broken  in  two  places  just  above  the  ankle,  and 
that  the  fracture  was  of  the  compound  order. 

Unfortunately  I  was  not  the  only  person  who  was 
injured  by  the  mishap.  There  were  several  men 
chnging  to  the  car  at  the  time  it  dragged  across  the 
field,  and  one  man  was  crushed  as  by  the  wheels  of 
Juggernaut  against  the  wall.  Two  of  his  ribs  were 
broken,  and  he  was  in  a  very  bad  way  until  attended 
to  by  Dr.  Gutteridge,  who  also  treated  me  very 
skilfully.  One  or  two  other  persons  were  slightly 
damaged,  nor  did  Simmons  himself  escape  scot-free. 
His  arm  was  hurt,  and,  to  use  his  own  words,  his 
side  "  seemed  to  be  caved  in."  Apparently  not 
recognizing  exactly  what  had  happened  to  me  in  the 
confusion  and  excitement  which  took  place  when  the 
car  struck  against  the  wall,  Simmons  called  out, 
"  Tell  Sir  Claude  to  get  in."  Learning  what  had 
happened,  he  none  the  less  resolved,  and  in  my  opinion 
rightly  so,  to  make  the  ascent  alone.  My  sudden 
removal  from  the  car  had  left  him  in  a  somewhat 

9 


130  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

awkward  position.  But  he  managed  to  replace  my 
weight  with  some  ballast  at  hand,  and  then  in  a  lull 
effected  a  capital  ascent.  I  was  lying  down  in  the 
field  with  my  head  propped  up,  and  with  great 
interest,  and  greater  disappointment  at  my  own 
inabihty  to  take  part  in  the  voyage,  saw  him  dart 
up  into  the  sky. 

From  the  short  account  which  Simmons  supphed 
of  his  trans-Channel  trip,  it  seems  that  his  chief 
difficulty  was  to  keep  sufficiently  high  to  clear  all  im- 
pediments, and  yet  be  able  to  see  where  he  was  going. 
The  clouds  were  exceedingly  low,  so  that  it  was  not 
at  all  easy  to  do  this.  He  heard  the  sound  of  the 
breakers  soon  after  the  start, — the  balloon  travelled 
at  a  tremendous  pace, — and  this  satisfied  him  that 
the  wind  was  a  true  one  from  the  earth's  surface  to 
a  great  altitude.  Upon  dipping  below  the  clouds 
he  ventured  down  to  have  a  look  at  the  sea.  The 
sound  of  the  breakers  had  then  ceased,  but  presently 
it  was  repeated.  He  could  just  dimly  perceive  a 
sandy  coast-line  in  front,  and  concluded  that  he 
must  be  right  for  France.  Presently  the  balloon 
dipped  again  below  the  clouds,  and  the  aeronaut  found 
that  he  was  over  land.  He  guessed  it  to  be  Kent, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  more  was  able  to  distinguish 
Deal,  which  lay  a  little  to  the  east.  It  was  next  to 
impossible  to  keep  low  enough  to  be  under  the  clouds, 
so  as  to  see  the  coast-line  around,  and  at  the  same 
time  be  high  enough  to  be  sure  of  getting  a  good  sweep 
over  it. 

At  1.45  Simmons  was  right  over  the  Calais-Douvres 
steamer,  and  could  see  the  passengers  waving  ex- 
citedly to  him,  as  people  always  will  to  an  aeronaut. 


SOME   BALLOONING   EXPERIENCES    131 

Twelve  minutes  after  passing  over  the  English  chalk 
clifis  he  was  over  the  French  coast.  He  was  then 
so  near  Calais  as  to  be  able  to  distinguish  all  its  streets 
and  public  bulidings.  The  water  safely  crossed,  he 
took  off  his  cork  jacket — without  which  no  balloonist 
who  knows  his  business  makes  an  ascent  near  the 
sea — and  meditated  a  trip  inland.  But  suddenly 
recollecting  that  my  accident  and  removal  from  the 
balloon  had  left  him  with  very  scanty  pecuniary 
resources,  he  decided  to  come  to  anchor  as  soon  as 
possible,  He  looked  out  for  a  landing  place,  but  for 
some  time  could  see  no  hedge  or  ditch  on  his  track 
suitable  for  the  purpose.  Nothing  was  passed  save 
fields  divided  by  different  crops  of  corn.  After 
Simmons  had  gone  as  he  supposed  about  a  hundred 
miles  into  France  a  large  city  was  reached.  The 
inhabitants  rushed  out  into  the  principal  square  to 
witness  the  strange  sight.  Floating  over  them  at  a 
height  of  about  six  hundred  feet,  he  asked  in  French, 
"  What's  the  name  of  this  place  ?  "  and  the  reply 
came  "  Arras."  A  few  miles  outside  the  city  he 
descended,  and  after  dragging  a  long  distance  over 
some  level  ground,  and  damaging  the  crops,  he 
crippled  the  balloon,  and  managed  to  get  out  of  the 
car  in  safety.  He  had  traversed  one  hundred  and 
seventy  miles  in  slightly  over  an  hour  and  a  half. 

The  incidents  of  this  ascent  supplied  the  news- 
papers with  some  excellent  "  copy  "  at  a  not  over- 
exciting  period,  and  one  or  two  of  them — rather 
ungratefully,  it  has  occurred  to  mq  ! — censured  us 
severely  for  what  they  were  pleased  to  regard  as  our 
foolhardiness.  The  fact  is,  there  was  a  kind  of  anti- 
balloon   scare    just   about   this   time.      To   General 


132  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

Brine's  misadventure  allusion  has  been  made.  Then 
some  years  previously  two  French  aeronauts  had 
perished  in  the  higher  atmospheric  regions  whilst 
directing  the  balloon  "  Zenith."  But  far  fresher 
in  the  mind  of  the  public  than  any  other  aeronautic 
disaster  was  the  fatal  ascent  of  Mr.  Walter  Powell 
at  Bath.  With  regard  to  this  particular  disaster,  it 
has  always  seemed  to  me  that  Mr.  Powell  and  his 
two  colleagues,  Major  Templar — who  was  afterwards 
in  charge  of  the  ballooning  in  the  war  in  Egypt — 
and  Mr.  Gardner,  made  mistakes  of  a  kind  which  the 
least  experienced  aeronaut  ought  to  avoid.  It  was 
said  that  they  intended  crossing  the  water.  If  so 
it  was  little  short  of  madness  to  start  as  they  did 
late  in  the  afternoon,  light,  as  every  one  can 
understand,  being  a  sine  qua  non  to  the  safety  of  the 
balloonist.  Then  to  deliberately  endeavour  to  leave 
the  car  as  it  dragged  along  the  ground,  as  was  done 
in  this  case,  was  to  invite  a  catastrophe.  It  appears 
that  the  aeronauts,  finding  themselves  going  out 
to  sea,  resolved  to  leave  the  car,  if  needs  be,  whilst 
the  balloon  was  still  in  motion. 

The  balloon  was  accordingly  brought  to  earth 
close  to  Bridport.  There  was  nothing  to  make  the 
grapnel  fast  to,  so  the  balloon  dragged  or  skimmed 
along  the  ground.  To  leave  the  balloon  whilst  it  was 
so  moving  was  something  like  getting  out  of  a  train 
going  at  a  good  pace.  Mr.  Gardner  in  leaping  out 
fractured  his  leg,  but  Major  Templar  with  great 
good  fortune  managed  to  reach  the  ground  without 
injuring  himself.  The  balloon,  reheved  of  the  weight 
of  the  two  men,  shot  up  again,  and  Mr.  Powell  had 
not  time  to  join  his  companions.     It  passed  over  the 


SOME    BALLOONING   EXPERIENCES    133 

cliffs  and  floated  away  to  sea.  Mr.  Powell  when  last 
seen  by  his  companions  was  clinging  on  outside  the 
car.  In  a  minute  or  two  he  disappeared  altogether 
from  view,  and  never  more  was  seen  by  mortal  eye. 
His  precise  fate  must  therefore  remain  for  all  time 
uncertain.  What  the  party  clearly  ought  to  have 
done  when  they  found  themselves  going  over  the 
cliffs  was  to  come  down  in  the  sea,  and  then 
with  their  cork  jackets  on  swim  to  shore. 

The  injury  I  sustained  in  the  Maldon  ascent  left 
me  hors  de  combat  for  many  a  weary  week.  From 
Saturday,  June  10,  to  Saturday,  July  29,  my  diary  is 
a  dismal  blank.  On  the  latter  day  I  went  downstairs, 
and  drove  to  Witham.  Two  days  afterwards  I  went 
up  to  town,  visited  the  theatre,  and  luxuriated  in  a 
Turkish  bath.  But  swift  retribution  followed  this 
too  swift  return  to  the  joys  of  life.  My  bones  had 
not  perfectly  mended.  In  a  few  days  I  was  down 
again,  and  invalided  till  almost  the  middle  of  Septem- 
ber. The  various  accidents  I  have  sustained  chasing 
and  hunting,  all  combined  perhaps,  punished  me 
less  severely  than  this  balloon  disaster. 

With  that  happy  knack,  rare  amongst  princes  as 
amongst  their  subjects,  of  always  doing  and  saying 
the  right  thing  at  the  right  time,  the  late  King 
Edward,  then  Prince  of  Wales,  sent  me  a  kind  little 
message  through  my  brother  after  this  ballooning 
disaster.  "  Tell  your  brother,''  he  said,  "  that  I  am 
very  sorry  to  hear  of  his  mishap  ;  but  also  say  that 
I  cannot  approve  altogether  of  his  trying  to  make 
the  ascent  under  the  circumstances." 

Before  concluding  this  account  of  the  first  ascent 
from  Maldon,  I  may  note  that  the  rate  at  which 


134  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

Simmons  crossed  to  France  was,  with  one  exception, 
the  fastest  on  aeronautic  record.  That  exception  was 
Simmons's  trip  from  Peekskill  to  Bedford  in  New 
York  county,  a  distance  of  twenty-five  miles,  which 
was  accompHshed  at  a  perfectly  phenomenal  rate. 

By  the  time  I  had  fully  recovered  from  the  injury 
sustained  in  this  first  Maldon  ascent,  the  time  of  year 
was  too  far  advanced  to  make,  with  any  great  chance 
of  success,  another  attempt  to  cross  the  Channel. 
But  in  the  following  year,  and  a  little  later  on  in  the 
season,  I  had  again  made  arrangements  for  the  trip. 
Indeed  long  before  my  leg  was  mended,  my  reso- 
lution to  make  another  attempt  had  been  come  to. 
When  Mr.  Wymper,  roaming  about  by  himself  one 
afternoon  on  the  then  unknown  heights  of  the 
Matterhorn,  slipped,  and  falling  several  hundred 
feet,  met  with  an  accident  that  all  but  cost  him  his 
life,  he  yet  resolved  to  be  the  first  to  tread  on  the 
summit  of  the  great  mountain.  Nothing  could  move 
him  from  his  purpose  ;  nothing  could  move  me  from 
mine.  The  Channel  of  course  had  already  been 
crossed  in  a  balloon  a  fair  number  of  times,  whereas 
Mr.  Wymper  was  aiming  at  a  record  in  mountain- 
eering. But  as  it  happened,  we  too  were  to  estabhsh 
a  record  in  ballooning. 

On  Monday,  July  30,  1883,  Simmons,  whom  I 
again  chose  for  the  trip,  came  to  Maldon  with  his 
balloon,  and  at  once  set  about  repairing  some  damages 
which  it  had  sustained  at  Brighton  a  few  weeks 
previously.  Composed  principally  of  indiarubber 
and  bird-lime — a  queer  combination  this  must  seem 
to  the  non-aeronautic  mind — it  was  one  of  the 
strongest  balloons  ever  constructed.     It  was  capable 


SOME    BALLOONING   EXPERIENCES    135 

of  holding  37,000  cubic  feet  of  gas, — exactly  the 
same  quantity,  by  the  way,  as  held  by  the  balloon 
in  which  Burnaby  crossed  the  Channel, — and  when 
inflated  it  was  seventy-five  feet  in  height  and  forty- 
two  in  diameter.  Directly  I  set  eyes  on  it  I  felt 
assured  of  success,  and  only  longed  for  an  early 
start. 

But  that  is  exactly  what  we  did  not  get.  There 
was  much  delay  in  inflating  the  balloon,  though  the 
operation  commenced  so  early  as  five  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  After  breakfast  I  arrived  on  the  scene 
of  action,  which  was  a  paddock  adjoining  the  Maldon 
Gas  Works,  and  roamed  about,  growing  after  a 
while  very  impatient  as  the  hours  of  daylight  wore 
on  apace.  In  the  course  of  the  morning  we  sent  up 
six  pilot  balloons,  of  about  sixteen  feet  in  diameter, 
and  the  result  was  not  at  all  encouraging.  The  wind 
was  veering  about,  now  north-west  and  now  south- 
west, in  a  very  fickle  manner,  and  the  fifth  balloon 
went  in  a  course  which  would  take  it  straight  up 
the  North  Sea  !  Simmons  looked  grave,  as  well  he 
might.  He  was  an  intrepid  aeronaut  and  had  made 
upwards  of  four  hundred  and  fifty  ascents  in  his  time, 
out  of  which  more  than  half  were  sohtary  ones.  He 
had  had  several  very  narrow  escapes,  and  had  des- 
cended into  the  sea  no  less  than  nine  times — once 
into  the  German  Ocean,  once  into  the  English 
Channel,  and  once  into  Lake  Michigan.  At  the  same 
time  he  had  a  laudable  desire  to  live  a  little  longer 
and  make  a  few  more  successful  ascents.  The 
threatening-looking  course  taken  by  our  fifth  pilot 
balloon  seemed  to  indicate  that  there  would  be  every 
probability  of  his  desire  in  this  respect  being  un- 


136  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN^S  LIFE 

accomplished,  if  he  went  up  that  morning  into  the 
heavens  with  me.  He  expressed  his  grave  doubts 
as  to  the  wisdom  of  our  ascending  that  day,  but  was 
too  courageous  a  man  to  actually  decline  to  do  so. 

There  remained,  however,  the  sixth  pilot  balloon 
to  try,  and  presently  it  was  despatched  on  its  journey. 
It  took  a  more  reassuring  course  than  the  fifth,  and 
I  adjudged  that  if  our  own  behaved  in  the  same 
manner,  there  was  good  ground  for  believing  that 
we  should  reach  Holland  or  Germany  before  dark. 
Simmons,  however,  did  not  look  on  things  in  such 
a  hopeful  spirit.  He  was  in  a  dubious,  head-shaking 
kind  of  humour,  and  was  quite  prepared  for  the 
worst.  "  Simmons,  will  you  go  now  ?  "  I  asked 
him  when  the  sixth  pilot  had  floated  away  out  of 
sight,  and  he  replied  in  the  afiirmative.  After  that 
he  never  hesitated.  At  half-past  eleven  the  inflation 
of  the  balloon  was  finished.  The  car  was  affixed, 
and  then  made  captive  to  a  tree  in  a  hedge  close  to 
the  gas  works.  Five  hundred  pounds  of  ballast  in 
seven  bags  were  stowed  away  in  the  car,  and  I  made 
a  small  and  useful  addition  in  the  shape  of  some 
sandwiches  and  cold  tea.  We  had  already  tried  on 
our  life-belts  for  use  in  case  we  should  fall  into  the 
North  Sea,  and  nothing  remained  but  to  get  in,  and 
get  off  as  quickly  as  possible.  We  ought  properly 
to  have  started  several  hours  earher,  as  our  safety 
must  depend  to  a  very  large  extent  on  the  amount 
of  daylight  at  our  disposal. 

At  half-past  twelve  Simmons  and  I  at  last  got  into 
the  car — the  identical  one  out  of  which  I  lowered 
myself  with  my  broken  leg  the  year  before — and  the 
order  was  given  to  the  score  or  so  of  men  who  were 


SOME    BALLOONING   EXPERIENCES    137 

holding  to  let  go.  The  order  this  time  was  promptly- 
obeyed,  and  we  went  up  in  a  lull  between  the  gusts 
of  wind.  Greatly  excited,  and  filled  with  admiration 
at  the  majestic  manner  in  which  we  took  flight,  the 
great  crowd  of  spectators,  who  had  been  waiting 
patiently  for  several  hours,  burst  into  loud  cheers. 
The  demonstration  was  kept  up  for  some  little  while, 
and  we  acknowledged  it  by  waving  our  hats.  The 
undercurrents  of  wind  were  anything  but  strong, 
and  as  a  result  our  progress  to  commence  with  was 
exceptionally  slow.  We  were  told  that  we  were 
visible  for  over  an  hour  after  the  start.  Of  a  very 
different  character  was  Simmons's  ascent  in  the 
previous  year  ;  in  that  case  the  balloon  had  com- 
pletely disappeared  from  sight  in  the  matter  of  a  few 
minutes,  the  rate  of  progress,  as  already  pointed  out, 
being  from  the  outset  quite  lightning-like. 

Fhtting  away  over  Osea  Island  and  Asheldham 
Gorse,  we  soon  found  ourselves  "  at  sea,"  though  it 
was  some  time  before  we  lost  sight  of  the  Essex  coast. 
A  beautiful  "  Kathorama  "  forthwith  disclosed  itself. 
The  bottom  of  the  sea  could  be  clearly  seen  in  every 
direction,  each  channel  and  shoal  standing  out  in 
the  clearest  relief,  though  9000  feet  below  us.  The 
lightship  east  of  the  Blackwater  looked  the  size  of 
a  flea,  but,  like  every  other  object  visible,  it  stood 
out  most  clear-cut.  A  man-of-war  at  Harwich  was 
a  bit  bigger  than  a  pea,  and  six  steamers  beneath 
us  appeared  to  be  on  the  point  of  a  wholesale  col- 
Hsion.  Through  the  unspeakable  stillness  the  bell 
on  a  buoy  of!  the  Blackwater  was  to  be  heard  con- 
tinuously ringing.  A  man  perhaps  never  really 
knows  what  the  most  magnificent  view  is  till  carried 


138  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

by  a  balloon  into  a  perfectly  clear  atmosphere.  How- 
ever high  we  climb  amongst  the  loftiest  mountains, 
there  are  always  peaks  in  one  direction  or  another  to 
obstruct  the  view.  Nothing  in  a  clear  atmosphere 
impedes  the  view  which  opens  out  to  the  aeronaut  a 
few  minutes  after  his  ascent. 

But  we  had  other  things  to  attend  to  besides  the 
glorious  scenery.  We  had  to  devote  our  minds  to 
the  question  of  whether  we  were  to  reach  terra  firma 
before  night,  or  be  carried  away  and  drowned  in  the 
North  Sea.  We  flung  out  scraps  of  paper,  and 
noticed  that  they  drifted  a  bit  northerly.  So  long 
as  the  course  pursued  remained  a  southerly  or  easterly 
one  we  were  fairly  sure  of  reaching  the  Continent. 
By  two  o'clock  we  had  touched  an  altitude  of  10,000 
feet,  and  now  for  the  first  time  found  ourselves  rush- 
ing into  a  dense  mist  to  the  south-east.  An  hour 
later  we  were  fairly  enshrouded  in  it,  and  could  see 
nothing  but  each  other  and  the  balloon. 

We  enjoyed  some  effects  as  beautiful  as  the  aurora 
borealis.  A  perfect  picture  of  the  balloon  presented 
itself  on  the  clouds.  Every  rope  was  faithfully  repro- 
duced, and  our  own  forms  were  actually  represented. 
We  opened  our  mouths  to  shout  at  our  vis-d-vis 
tearing  along  within  a  few  yards  of  us,  and  they 
opened  their  mouths  as  though  to  shout  back  at  us. 
The  grappling  cable  which  Simmons  had  let  out  was 
distinctly  reproduced  in  reflection  or  shadow  running 
to  the  phantom  car  that  kept  us  company.  At  first 
when  Simmons  drew  my  attention  to  this  extra- 
ordinary effect  I  could  see  nothing,  but  coming  over 
to  his  side  perceived  it  perfectly.  Other  curious 
effects  were  noticeable.     For  instance,  a  blue  serge 


SOME   BALLOONING   EXPERIENCES    139 

suit  Simmons  wore  looked  quite  green  for  a  while. 
The  atmosphere  above  presently  turned  into  a  deep 
cerulean  blue,  and  the  gas  up  through  the  balloon 
could  be  clearly  seen.  The  great  dome  itself,  with 
its  gores  and  diamonds,  had  a  substantial  appearance 
rather  reassuring  in  a  region  of  phantom  effects. 
Meanwhile  the  silence  continued  to  be,  as  was  the 
case  before  we  came  into  this  dense  mist,  almost 
oppressive.  We  could  well  hear  the  beating  of  our 
own  hearts. 

These  strange  and  beautiful  reflections  or  images 
have  been  noticed  occasionally  by  several  other 
balloonists.  It  is  not  unlikely  indeed  that  they  are 
in  various  forms  quite  common.  Monsieur  Flam- 
marion,  when  careering  through  the  mystic  realms  of 
cloudland,  was  once  startled  by  the  sudden  appear- 
ance of  a  rival  balloon  and  rival  aeronauts,  at,  as  it 
seemed,  less  than  a  hundred  feet  away.  The  forms 
of  the  travellers  in  the  rival  balloon  Flammarion  and 
his  companion  speedily  recognised  as  their  own. 
The  minutest  details  came  out  in  this  reflection,  the 
thinnest  ropes,  and  even  the  cords  and  instruments 
suspended  thereto.  Godard  flourished  the  national 
flag,  and  the  shadow  of  a  flag  was  instantly  moved 
by  the  spectral  hand  in  the  air.  All  around  too  they 
noticed  curious  concentric  circles  of  various  hues. 

After  two  hours  of  silence  and  mist  a  faint  sound 
smote  on  our  ears.  Could  it  be  the  surf  on  the  coast 
of  Holland  or  Germany  ?  we  asked  ourselves. 
Slowly  descending,  we  emerged  just  before  five  o'clock 
on  the  under  side  of  the  clouds,  and  at  once  caught 
sight  of  what  we  conceived  and  hoped  to  be  the 
coast-line  to   the   south-east.     But  a   few  minutes 


140  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

later  this  line  turned  out  to  be  nothing  more  than 
one  of  the  many  shoals  we  had  seen  in  the  course  of 
the  day.  Still  the  shoal  was  encouraging  to  this 
extent — it  showed  that  we  were  no  longer  in  mid- 
ocean.  The  next  objects  which  engaged  our  atten- 
tion were  less  deceptive.  Several  steamers  and  sailing 
vessels  were  within  sight,  the  latter  tacking  and  be- 
having generally  as  though  they  expected  that  their 
aid  would  be  shortly  required.  If  that  were  the  case 
they  were  speedily  undeceived.  We  left  them  far 
behind,  and  fell  to  discussing  the  very  serious  question 
— indeed  it  was  almost  one  of  life  and  death — as  to 
whether  our  change  in  altitude  had  had  the  very 
undesirable  effect  of  taking  us  out  of  our  course  east 
or  south-east  to  one  more  or  less  due  north.  A 
streak  appeared  to  the  east,  and  though  it  remained 
indistinct  for  a  considerable  while,  I  had  a  fancy  it 
was  land.  Presently,  however,  it  began  to  grow 
dimmer  and  dimmer,  and  eventually  turned  out  to 
be  a  cloud.  There  are  mirages  of  the  air  as  of  the 
desert,  as  we  discovered  several  times  during  our 
perilous  journey  through  the  clouds. 

At  ten  minutes  past  six  a  rather  startling  thing 
occurred.  The  sun  peeped  out  of  the  bank  of  clouds 
which  encircled  it,  and  under  the  influence  of  its  rays, 
the  balloon  instantly  took  a  wild  leap  heavenwards, 
carrying  us  in  a  single  bound  from  8,000  to  17,000 
feet.  In  our  mad  career  upwards  we  passed  through 
what  looked  like  a  great  field  of  glaciers  and  snow- 
covered  mountains.  The  glories  of  Alp  and  Hima- 
laya pale  and  sink  to  puny  proportions  beside  the 
magnificence  of  that  mountain-land  of  space.  It 
was  difficult  to  realize  that  these  vast  hills  were  built 


SOME    BALLOONING   EXPERIENCES    141 

of  mere  cloud,  so  solid  and  immovable  did  they 
appear.  The  scene  was  so  enchanting  that  we  almost 
forgot  the  intense  cold — the  valve-line  was  frozen — 
and  the  danger  we  might  incur  by  remaining  at  so 
great  an  altitude.  The  opening  of  the  valve  by 
Simmons,  who  was  not  inclined  to  risk  his  life  for 
these  "  unsubstantial  pageants  "  of  the  air,  took  us 
down  towards  base  earth  as  quickly  as  we  had  shot 
up  a  few  minutes  before.  The  roar  of  the  surf  greeted 
our  ears,  and  before  our  delighted  vision  spread  a  part 
of  Walcheren  Island  (a  spot  patriotic  EngUshmen 
cannot  as  a  rule  regard  with  pleasure),  and  of  the 
mainland  of  Holland,  which  shut  us  in  on  the  north. 
We  had  thus  securely  crossed  the  North  Sea,  an 
aeronautic  feat  never  before  accomplished.  Sim- 
mons was  so  satisfied  that  we  were  safe  that  he 
took  out  his  sketch-book,  and  made  a  drawing  of 
Walcheren  and  the  town  of  Flushing  which  lay 
immediately  beneath  us. 

Oftentimes  the  bringing  of  a  balloon  to  anchor  is 
a  very  troublesome  and  risky  affair.  As  it  was,  we 
narrowly  escaped  striking  the  top  of  a  cottage.  The 
throwing  out  of  some  ballast  just  saved  us  from  this 
disaster,  which  would  not  improbably  have  cost  both 
of  us  our  lives.  After  this  incident  all  went  well. 
We  got  our  grapnel  out,  and  having  torn  up  an  old 
fence  or  so,  hitched  on  securely  in  a  dyke.  The  car 
bumped  about  a  little,  and  turned  clean  over  once 
or  twice,  but  this  was  a  trifle  ;  for  we  managed  to 
hang  on  to  the  guy-ropes  till  it  righted  itself. 

A  large  crowd  of  people  had  meanwhile  chased  us 
from  field  to  field.  They  came  up  and  helped  us  to 
pack  the  balloon  in  the  car,  and  afterwards  escorted 


142  FOETY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

us  back  to  Flushing  with  many  signs  of  enthusiasm 
and  approval.     The  only  jarring  note  came  from  the 
owner  of  a  fence  we  had  considerably  damaged.     He 
mentioned  large  sums  of  money  by  way  of  compen- 
sation, but  ultimately  took  a  couple  of  sovereigns. 
Arrived  in  Flushing,  we  had  just  time  to  get  dinner 
at  the  Wellington  Hotel.     Four  hours  after  reaching 
terra  firma  we  were  on,  instead  of  over,  the  water ; 
and  the  following  afternoon  I  was  standing  in  my 
own  hall  at  Champion  Lodge.     From  an  aeronautic 
point  of  view,  complete  success  had  crowned  what 
looked  at  the  outset  a  very  risky  enterprise.     The 
Balloon  Society's  council  met  on  Thursday,  the  day 
after  the  news  of  our  success  was  wired  to  England, 
and  under  the  presidency  of    Mr.  C.  Green  Spencer 
resolved,   "  That  the  Society's  gold  medal  be  pre- 
sented to  Sir  Claude  de  Crespigny,  one  of  the  life 
members  of  the  Society,  for  the  indomitable  courage 
displayed  in  his  voyage  across  the  Channel  yesterday  ; 
also  that  a  public  vote  of  thanks  be  accorded  to  him 
and  Mr.   Simmons  at  the  meeting  to  be  held  to- 
morrow." 

Burnaby's  voyage  across  the  Channel,  differed  a 
good  deal  from  that  of  Simmons  in  1882,  as  also  from 
that  of  Simmons  and  myself  across  the  North  Sea 
in  the  following  year.  As  I  was  meditating  the  trip 
myself,  I  was  naturally  very  interested  to  hear  all 
about  it  from  his  own  lips.  It  seems  that  he  first 
definitely  made  up  his  mind  to  cross  the  Channel 
when  he  heard  of  the  failure  of  Brine  and  Simmons. 
Burnaby  had  little  patience  with  people  who  decried 
every  one  as  a  lunatic,  or  a  balloonatic,  as  he  put  it 
himself,  who  took  any  part  in  this  pursuit.     His  view 


SOME   BALLOONING   EXPERIENCES    143 

was  that  a  man  was  no  more  a  fool  to  risk  his  life  in 
a  balloon  than  to  take  part  in  steeplechasing  or  any 
other  sport  where  a  certain  amount  of  hazard  must 
be  unavoidable. 

Shortly  after  the  failure  of  Brine  and  Simmons, 
he  put  himself  into  communication  with  the  owner 
of  a  balloon,  in  which  Mr.  Powell,  M.P.,  had  once 
made  an  ascent.  The  balloon,  he  was  told,  would 
hold  36,000  feet  of  gas,  and  was  in  excellent  condition. 
Its  owner  expressed  a  desire  to  go  with  Burnaby. 
But  the  latter  declined  this  privilege,  and  decided 
to  go  alone  ;  for  one  thing  Burnaby  was  seventeen 
stone,  and  one  such  a  heavy-weight  passenger  as  this 
is  quite  enough  for  the  lifting-power  of  most  balloons, 
unless  the  journey  is  to  be  of  the  shortest.  Burnaby 
also  declined  to  take  a  reporter  for  one  of  the  London 
newspapers  with  him.  The  start  was  arranged  for 
March  21,  1882,  from  Dover,  and  when  the  morning 
arrived  the  wind  was  found  to  be  in  the  right  quarter. 
The  only  hitch  that  occurred  was  in  the  work  of  filling 
the  balloon.  I  have  experienced  difficulties  in 
this  matter  in  my  own  expeditions,  as  I  shall  show 
presently,  and  Burnaby  found  to  his  disgust  that 
several  hours  had  to  be  wasted.  He  had  hoped  to  be 
off  by  eight  o'clock,  but  had  scarcely  started  two 
hours  later. 

As  he  went  up  the  owner  pointed  to  one  of  the 
cords,  and  suggested  that  if  the  balloon  burst  in  the 
air,  Burnaby  might  do  worse  than  pull  it ;  he  had 
an  idea  that  the  burst  balloon  might  then  come  down 
in  the  form  of  a  parachute.  This  was  a  nice  kind 
of  thmg  to  set  a  man  thinking  about  at  the  moment 
of  his  departure  from  the  soHd  earth — and  a  pleasant 


144  FOKTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

send-of! !  Burnaby,  however,  was  not  a  nervous 
man.  As  he  sprang  upwards,  he  appeared  to  be  in 
considerable  risk  of  striking  a  factory  shaft  which 
was  in  rather  dangerous  proximity  to  the  spot  selected 
for  the  ascent ;  but  the  collision  was  avoided  by 
flinging  out  some  ballast,  and  thus  increasing  the 
rising  power  of  the  balloon.  He  then  rose  rapidly 
to  a  height  of  between  two  and  three  thousand  feet, 
and  enjoyed  a  fine  view  of  earth  and  sea.  Though 
there  had  been  frost  overnight,  the  day  was  warm 
and  pleasant.  Being  a  stout  man,  Burnaby  indeed 
felt  the  rays  of  the  sun  quite  oppressive,  and  shielded 
the  back  of  his  neck  with  his  handkerchief. 

The  balloon's  motion  was  delightful,  and  the 
occupant  congratulated  himself  that  he  was  not 
experiencing  the  horrible  qualms  of  sea-sickness  on 
board  one  of  the  passenger  vessels  plying  far  below. 
The  first  striking  incident  in  his  voyage  was  a  sudden 
and  very  rapid  descent  of  the  balloon.  Throwing 
pieces  of  paper  out,  Burnaby  observed  that  they 
fluttered  in  the  air  above.  He  therefore,  to  save 
himself  from  coming  down  into  the  water,  began  to 
throw  ballast  out.  It  was  not  until  a  considerable 
quantity  of  sand  had  been  scattered  that  his  baro- 
meter showed  that  the  balloon  was  at  length  taking 
an  upward  turn.  It  did  so  not  a  minute  too  soon, 
for  when  his  downward  career  was  at  length  stopped, 
the  balloon  was  within  five  hundred  feet  of  the  sea. 
This  sudden  descent  was  owing  to  the  fact  that  the 
balloon  had  found  its  way  into  a  region  of  cold  air, 
which  had  compressed  the  gas. 

Next  Burnaby  found  his  balloon  had  come  to  a 
dead  stand-still !     He  threw  bits  of  paper  out  of 


SOME    BALLOONING   EXPERIENCES    145 

the  car,  and  they  one  and  all  fell  straight  down  into 
the  Channel.  He  was  thus,  it  was  perfectly  clear, 
becalmed  in  the  air.  Some  fishing-boats  were  to  be 
seen  at  no  great  distance  ofif,  and  their  crews  made 
signs  which  Burnaby  interpreted  as  friendly  indi- 
cations of  a  desire  to  take  him  on  board,  if  he  would 
come  down  into  the  water.  But  he  had  started 
with  the  set  purpose  of  crossing  the  Channel,  and  of 
not  alighting  till  he  had  done  so.  He  therefore 
hardened  his  heart  against  the  friendly  advances  of 
the  fishermen,  and  stuck  resolutely  to  his  stationary 
balloon.  For  an  hour  he  remained  in  this  very 
aggravating  position,  but  at  length  descended  again 
within  less  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  water, 
and  then  again  reascended  a  little.  Things,  how- 
ever, were  no  better  at  this  lower  altitude  ;  the 
balloon  continued  becalmed.  What  was  to  be  done  ? 
In  order  the  better  to  consider  this  question,  and  to 
pass  away  time  that  was  beginning  to  hang  heavily 
on  his  hands,  "  the  mad  Englishman  "  took  a  cigar 
out  of  his  case,  and  calmly  lit  up,  regardless  of  the  fact 
that  there  was  a  continuous  escape  of  inflammable 
gas  just  above  his  head.  He  might  just  as  safely 
have  smoked  in  a  powder  magazine.  Burnaby  ad- 
mitted the  riskiness  of  the  proceeding  in  describing 
it  afterwards,  and  chuckled  when  he  pictured  what 
the  discomfort  of  the  owner  of  the  balloon  would  have 
been,  could  he  have  seen  what  was  taking  place  ! 

No  change  whatever  in  Burnaby 's  position  taking 
place,  and  the  balloon  not  catching  fire,  as  might 
have  been  expected,  the  aeronaut  resolved  to  ascend 
to  a  much  greater  altitude.  He  flung  out  a  bag  of 
ballast,  which  fell  with  a  loud  thud  into  the  water. 

10 


146  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN^S  LIFE 

Up  shot  the  balloon  to  a  height  of  3,000  feet,  and  then 
again  remained  stationary.  Out  went  another  bag, 
and  up  went  the  balloon  again,  this  time  to  an  alti- 
tude of  about  a  mile  and  a  half ;  but  still  the  hateful 
calm.  More  ballast  followed,  and  the  balloon  con- 
tinued to  ascend  into  the  higher  regions  of  the  air. 
Very  little  ballast  was  left  when  Burnaby  found 
himself  at  a  height  of  about  two  miles.  But  at 
length  in  the  midst  of  cloudland  the  balloon  began 
to  move,  and,  to  Burnaby's  great  satisfaction,  in  the 
direction  of  France  ;  whilst  presently,  getting  clear 
of  the  clouds,  he  was  able  to  see  most  distinctly  the 
town  and  harbour  of  Dieppe. 

Full  of  spirits  and  fun  over  his  successful  voyage, 
the  aeronaut,  having  descended  to  within  a  few 
hundred  feet  of  the  earth,  over  which  he  was  now 
speeding,  dropped  some  loose  sand  on  a  labourer 
working  in  a  field  below.  The  man  started,  looked 
all  round  to  see  where  this  had  come  from,  and  at 
length,  perceiving  the  balloon,  fell  flat  on  his  back. 
Others  now  saw  the  balloon,  and  cried  out  to  its  occu- 
pant to  come  down  at  once.  This  is  often  easier  to 
say  than  to  do  in  ballooning  ;  but  after  bumping  the 
ground  once  with  considerable  violence  and  then  re- 
ascending,  Burnaby  pulled  the  valve-line,  and  then, 
as  he  rushed  down  with  great  rapidity,  threw  out  the 
remainder  of  his  ballast  in  order  to  lessen  the  pace 
and  force  of  the  collision  with  the  ground.  He  came 
to  anchor  in  a  ploughed  jSeld. 

The  natives  were  very  kind  and  obliging,  as 
Simmons  found  them  when  he  ascended  from  French 
soil  later  on  in  the  year,  and  vastly  excited  over 
the  advent  of  the  balloon  in  their  midst.     One  old 


SOME  BALLOONING    EXPEEIENCES    147 

woman  was  especially  demonstrative,  and  Burnaby 
placed  on  record  her  words.  "  Thank  heavens,  I 
too  have  seen  it,"  cried  she.  "  It  passed  over  my 
house  like  the  dome  of  a  cathedral ;  and  all  my  hens 
are  still  in  convulsions  of  fright  at  its  appearance." 

The  two  ascents  from  Maldon,  namely,  in  June 
1882,  and  August  1883,  may,  I  suppose,  be  re- 
garded as  the  most  sensational  in  my  aeronautic 
career.  It  is  a  rather  remarkable  fact  that  almost 
within  rifle-shot  of  my  Essex  house  there  have 
been  two  sensational  ascents  and  two  sensational 
descents.  The  former  have  been  described;  and  as 
regards  the  latter,  there  was  first  that  of  Captain 
Alfred  Paget,  R.N.,  when  the  grapnel  struck  an  un- 
fortunate lad  who  was  in  its  path  and  caused  fracture 
of  the  skull ;  and  secondly,  the  disastrous  descent 
in  a  field  very  close  to  Champion  Lodge  when  Sim- 
mons lost  his  life.  Captain  Paget's  untoward  descent 
near  Maldon  I  was  not  informed  of  in  time  to  go  out 
and  meet  him  and  his  companion  and  offer  them  the 
hospitality  which  one  balloonist  would  naturally 
desire  to  extend  to  another.  Simmons's  death  was  a 
source  of  great  regret  to  me.  I  had  formed  the  very 
highest  opinion  of  his  pluck,  resourcefulness,  and 
experience. 

Most  tragic  was  Simmons's  end.  It  occurred  on 
August  27,  1888,  at  Ulting,  near  Champion  Lodge. 
He  and  two  other  aeronauts  made  an  ascent  from 
the  Irish  Exhibition  at  Olympia,  hoping  to  cross  over 
to  the  Continent.  Everything  appears  to  have  gone 
well  till  they  tried  to  descend  at  Ulting.  The  grapnel 
caught  in  an  elm  tree,  and  Simmons  seems  to  have 
made  a  premature  attempt  to  reach  the  ground.     The 


148  FORTY  YEAKS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

balloon  came  down  with  a  bump,  shot  up  again,  and 
struck  the  tree.  It  burst  with  what  was  described 
as  a  terrific  report,  the  car  was  dashed  into  fragments, 
and  Simmons  came  by  his  end.  So  the  dauntless 
aeronaut  died  in  harness. 

I  recollect  Simmons  telling  me  that  the  only  time 
he  was  ever  in  a  balloon  when  the  grapnel  smashed, 
was  in  1884,  when  he  was  with  me.  We  ascended 
from  Bury  St.  Edmunds,  and  came  down  near  St. 
Neots.  The  ground  was  so  hard  that  it  smashed  the 
grapnel !  We  dragged  a  long  way  before  we  got 
anchored,  tearing  an  upright  post  out  of  the  ground, 
as  if  it  were  a  tooth-pick,  and  we  only  just  missed 
being  violently  whirled  into  some  telegraph  wires, 
which  would  no  doubt  have  finished  us  off  all  right. 
As  it  happened  the  balloon  was  burst  from  neck  to 
valve,  and  the  car  stove  in,  but  we  ourselves  escaped 
without  injury,  though  we  had  to  hang  on  to  the 
guy-ropes  for  dear  life  to  save  ourselves  from  being 
hurled  out  as  the  car  turned  clean  over  once  or  twice. 

We  hovered  over  Bury  during  this  trip  for  a  con- 
siderable time,  as  motionless  as  Burnaby's  balloon 
was  over  the  Channel.  At  length  I  got  tired  of  this 
kind  of  thing,  and  told  Simmons  to  pull  the  valve- 
line.  From  an  altitude  of  five  thousand  feet  or  so 
we  dropped  to  perhaps  three  thousand,  and  soon 
afterwards  found  ourselves  travelling  at  the  very 
respectable  rate  of  twenty-five  miles  an  hour. 

Not  being  myself  a  witness  of  the  fatal  accident 
which  cost  Simmons  his  life,  I  cannot  safely  offer  any 
remark  as  to  whether  or  no  the  disaster  was  the  result 
of  absolute  carelessness.  But  though  it  is  in  the 
descent,  as  a  rule,  that  most  of  the  accidents  occur, 


SOME    BALLOONING   EXPERIENCES    149 

it  is  not  by  any  means  necessarily  fatal  to  catch  in 
a  tree.  Indeed  it  sometimes  happens  that  a  tree  is 
the  best  place  to  come  to  anchor  in.  More  than  a 
hmidred  years  ago,  Mr.  Blanchard,  the  Maxim  of  his 
day,  in  the  company  of  Dr.  Jeffries,  an  American, 
crossed  the  Channel  from  England  to  France  for  the 
first  time  in  the  history  of  ballooning.  Before  he 
and  his  companion  had  safely  got  over  the  water, 
their  balloon  began  to  descend  with  rapidity,  and 
they  only  managed  to  keep  up  by  flinging  out  their 
ballast  and  everything  else  in  the  car  ;  they  even 
disposed  of  their  hats  and  coats,  though  it  was 
winter  time.  Fortunately  the  balloon  appears  to  have 
changed  its  mind  just  before  touching  the  water,  and 
they  were  eventually  taken  up  again,  and  carried 
away  into  the  forest  of  Guieppe.  Here  one  of  the 
aeronauts  caught  hold  of  the  branch  of  a  tree,  and  the 
balloon's  dangerous  flight  was  successfully  arrested 
without  any  accident.  Blanchard's  feat  fired  the 
ambition  of  a  rival  balloonist,  Pilatre  de  Rozier,  who 
at  once  resolved  to  cross  the  Channel  from  France 
to  England.  He  fixed  to  the  hydrogen  balloon,  by 
which  the  weight  was  to  be  borne,  another  and  much 
smaller  fire  balloon.  This,  he  believed,  would  enable 
him  to  alter  his  specific  gravity  as  might  be  required. 
The  fire  balloon  speedily  set  the  fabric  in  flames,  and 
Pilatre  and  his  companion  were  destroyed.  Fifty 
years  ago  an  English  aeronaut  escaped  from  an  ex- 
plosion through  fire  in  a  truly  miraculous  manner. 
He  alighted  in  his  balloon  upon  a  chimney  on  fire. 
The  balloon  caught  fire  and  exploded,  but  the  aeronaut 
dropped  in  the  very  nick  of  time  down  the  side  of  the 
house,  and  thus  escaped. 


150  FORTY  YEAES  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

The  most  dreadful  aeronautic  position,  perhaps, 
which  it  is  possible  to  conceive  was  that  in  which 
Burnaby  and  a  couple  of  Frenchmen  once  found 
themselves  shortly  after  making  an  ascent  from 
Cremorne.  One  of  these  Frenchmen  had  invented 
the  balloon  used,  and  was  exceedingly  proud  thereof. 
It  would  probably  have  never  ascended  at  all  had 
not  Burnaby,  who  volunteered  to  go  with  the  theorists, 
slyly  dropped  some  ballast  out  of  the  car.  When 
about  a  mile  and  a  half  or  a  mile  and  three-quarters 
high,  the  appalling  discovery  was  made  that  the 
neck  of  the  aerostat,  which  should  of  course,  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  usual  custom,  have  been  left  open 
in  order  to  allow  of  the  gas  escaping,  was  still  tied 
up  with  a  silk  handkerchief.  The  balloon  was  now 
quite  full,  and  the  atmospheric  pressure  was  rapidly 
decreasing  as  the  aeronauts  ascended  ;  whilst  the 
gas,  having  no  exit,  continued  to  expand.  The 
aerostat  was  constructed  in  such  a  way  that  it  was 
not  possible  to  get  at  the  neck,  and  so  unloosen  the 
fatal  handkerchief ;  whilst,  to  make  disaster  doubly 
assured,  the  valve-line  was  quite  out  of  reach.  Under 
these  circumstances,  the  only  thing  the  aeronauts 
could  do  was  to  sit  still  and  wait  for  their  balloon 
to  burst  and  dash  them  to  the  earth.  To  Burnaby 
death  seemed  absolutely  certain.  In  a  few  minutes 
the  balloon  did  burst,  and  instantly  began  to  rush 
earthwards  at  a  velocity  that  increased  every  mo- 
ment. But  by  a  piece  of  wonderfully  good  fortune, 
the  balloon  somehow  in  its  headlong  career  down- 
wards formed  a  kind  of  huge  parachute,  and  the 
occupants  landed  unhurt  in  a  field  just  outside  the 
Metropolis. 


SOME   BALLOONING    EXPERIENCES    151 

By  the  way,  Burnaby  had  a  ballooning  fad  of  his 
own,  on  which  he  dilated  to  me  on  one  occasion.  It 
was  his  ambition  to  reach  a  height  far  above  that 
achieved  by  any  other  aeronaut,  and  he  had  an  idea 
that  this  might  be  done  by  being  clad  in  a  kind  of 
diver's  dress  to  avoid  the  intense  cold,  and  by  taking 
with  one  a  supply  of  oxygen,  the  lack  of  which  defeats 
the  balloonist  ascending  beyond  a  certain  height. 
To  have  carried  out  this  idea  successfully — he  never 
actually  tried  it — he  would  have  had  to  ascend  to 
a  great  altitude,  for  in  1862  Mr.  Glaisher  and  Mr. 
Coxwell  actually  attained  a  height  of  seven  miles. 
I  have  recorded  the  experiences  of  Simmons  and 
myself  at  a  height  of  17,000  feet,  which  were  not 
over-agreeable.  But  these  two  intrepid  aeronauts, 
having  three-quarters  of  an  hour  after  their  ascent 
from  Wolverhampton  reached  to  an  altitude  of  five 
miles,  calmly  flung  out  sand  till  they  attained  a  height 
of  29,000  feet.  Before  this  was  done  Mr.  Glaisher 's 
sight  had  begun  to  fail,  so  that  he  could  no  longer 
read  the  fine  divisions  on  his  instruments.  As  they 
continued  to  ascend,  the  balloon  rapidly  spun  round 
and  round,  and  as  a  consequence  the  valve-line  be- 
came so  entangled  that  Mr.  Coxwell  had  to  chmb  up 
into  the  ring  above  the  car  to  set  it  right.  Mr. 
Glaisher  became  unconscious,  and  his  companion  was 
in  almost  as  critical  a  condition.  He  had  great 
difficulty  in  extricating  himself  from  the  ring,  which 
was  so  piercingly  cold  that  his  hands  were  frozen. 
After  a  struggle  he  dropped  somehow  back  again  into 
the  car,  and  there  feeling  himself  becoming  Hke  Mr. 
Glaisher,  insensible,  made  one  despairing  effort.  He 
caught    the    valve-fine — now    unentangled — in    his 


152  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

teeth,  and,  despite  his  dazed  condition,  held  the  valve 
open  till  the  balloon  at  last  began  to  unmistakably 
descend.  When  Mr.  Glaisher  was  restored  to  con- 
sciousness, he  found  his  friend's  hands  were  quite 
black  and  powerless.  The  history  of  ballooning 
furnishes  no  more  thrilhng  episode  than  this,  and 
Mr.  Coxwell's  admirable  presence  of  mind  and  perse- 
verance in  the  direst  of  extremities  must  give  him  a 
high  and  enduring  place  in  the  ranks  of  aeronauts  of 
all  time.  It  shows  what  sort  of  a  man  Burnaby  was, 
to  think  seriously  of  putting  into  the  shade  the  exploit 
of  these  two  balloonists. 

Once  Simmons's  balloon  ascended  with  such 
rapidity  to  the  height  of  30,000  feet,  that  he  fainted 
away.  Fortunately  he  had  a  turn  of  the  valve-Hne 
round  his  hand  when  he  sank  insensible  amongst  the 
sand-bags,  and  this  soon  brought  him  down  to  a 
lesser  altitude.  He  was  thus  saved  in  much  the  same 
manner  as  were  Glaisher  and  Coxwell. 

At  various  times  different  people  have  expressed 
a  desire  to  go  with  me  on  a  ballooning  excursion. 
Don  Carlos — to  whom,  by  the  bye,  I  was  introduced 
by  an  excellent  aeronaut,  the  late  General  Brine — 
has  talked  about  it,  and  so  have  several  steeple- 
chasers. One  of  the  people  who  was  quite  ready  to 
go  a-ballooning  with  me  was  Lord  Marcus  Beresford. 
I  asked  him  to  go  with  me  when  I  made  an  ascent 
with  Dale  from  Lilhe  Bridge,  but  he  was  engaged 
elsewhere.  Curiously  enough  we  passed,  by  pure 
chance,  over  Tattenham  Corner,  and  there  was  Epsom 
course  spread  out  far  below  us  !  I  decided  to  come 
down,  which  we  did  on  Walton  Heath,  three  miles 
from  the  course.     A  number  of  spectators  were  soon 


SOME    BALLOONING   EXPERIENCES    153 

alongside  of  us,  and  one  fellow  made  a  desperate 
endeavour  to  climb  into  the  balloon  by  the  neck. 
There  was  imminent  danger  of  his  tearing  it,  so  I 
ordered  him  to  desist.  He  took  umbrage  at  this,  and 
wanted  to  fight.  I  was  not  indisposed  to  do  battle 
on  behalf  of  the  balloon,  but  his  friends  dragged  him 
ofi.  A  little  while  later  whom  should  we  meet  return- 
ing from  a  cricket  match  but  Marcus  and  Jack  Jones ! 

Little  Dale  I  esteemed  as  a  capital  and  most 
plucky  aeronaut,  though  he  had  not  the  immense 
experience  of  Simmons.  A  very  short  time  before 
his  last  and  fatal  ascent  at  the  Palace,  I  visited  Dale, 
and  promised  to  go  up  again  with  him  very  soon. 
After  Dale's  death  I  was  glad  to  be  able  to  offer 
his  widow  a  house-rent  free  for  two  years  in  South 
London,  which  offer,  by  the  way,  she  declined. 

Concerning  Dale's  death  I  had  some  remarks  to 
make  from  the  Chair  of  the  Balloon  Society,  shortly 
after  the  accident,  which  were  somewhat  misinter- 
preted in  several  of  the  daily  papers.  I  was  repre- 
sented as  attributing  the  disaster  to  the  fact  that 
Dale  ascended  in  a  balloon  made  of  inferior  materials. 
But  he  was  far  too  good  an  aeronaut  to  have  done 
such  a  thing.  It  was  and  is  my  view,  however,  that 
he,  being  a  poor  man,  kept  his  balloon  rather  too 
long  for  his  own  safety.  The  disaster  occurred  from 
the  material  partially  rotting  through  being  packed 
away  damp  ;  and  it  was  found  that  nearly  every 
bone  in  his  body  had  been  broken  by  the  fall,  as  was 
the  case  with  de  Groof,  the  "  flying  man  "  impostor. 
For  many  years  brave  little  Dale  afforded,  at  the 
Crystal  Palace,  great  amusement  to  many  thousands 
of  people. 


154  FOETY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

My  friend,  the  late  General  Brine,  who  made  the 
trans-Channel  trip  with  Dale  in  August  1884,  gave 
a  very  useful  and  entertaining  lecture  before  the 
Society  some  years  ago,  in  the  course  of  which  he 
vividly  described  what  may  be  termed  the  senti- 
mental side  of  ballooning.  "  I  have  come  here  to- 
night," he  said,  "  to  treat  of  ballooning  in  its  scientific 
aspects  only,  but  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  say  adieu 
without  asseverating  that  in  my  humble  opinion  the 
calling  of  the  aeronaut  has  as  many  charms,  if  not 
more,  for  the  poet  and  the  philosopher  as  for  the 
scientist.  What  sensation,  for  example,  can  equal 
that  experienced  by  the  aerial  voyager,  when,  in  his 
journey  through  the  atmosphere,  he  actually  touches 
the  very  clouds  which  are  the  '  chariots  of  the  Al- 
mighty '  ?  And  what  circumstances  can  be  so  much 
calculated  to  impress  him  with  reverential  awe  and 
astonishment  passing  the  power  of  speech,  as  when, 
seated  in  his  frail  car  suspended  from  a  spherical 
mass  of  inflated  canvas,  and  riding  triumphantly 
over  the  summits  of  the  loftiest  mountains  and  along 
the  vast  deep,  he  plunges  into  those  mighty  atmos- 
pheric reservoirs  whence  come  the  rain,  the  hail, 
and  the  snow,  and  introduces  himself  to  those  heavenly 
arsenals  with  all  their  attendant  mysterious  pheno- 
mena, whence  issue  the  lightning  and  the  thunder- 
bolt that  strike  such  terror  upon  the  earth  ?  " 

Another  aeronaut  of  that  time  was  M.  L'Hoste. 
To  look  at,  he  scarcely  conveyed  to  us  the  impression 
of  being  a  very  adventurous  or  resolute  man,  but 
his  record  was  a  good  one.  He  twice  crossed  the 
Channel,  but  a  third  attempt  to  cross  from  Dover 
to  Dunkirk  cost  him  his  life.     On  Nov.  16,  1887, 


SOME    BALLOONING   EXPERIENCES    155 

he  and  M.  Mangot  made  an  ascent.  They  were  last 
seen  about  forty  miles  south  of  the  Isle  of  Wight, 
and  it  was  supposed  that  a  storm  of  wind  and  rain 
which  was  raging  at  the  time  must  have  driven  their 
balloon  into  the  sea.  No  trace  of  it,  any  more  than 
of  Mr.  Powell's,  was  ever  discovered. 

Up  to  the  present  time  there  have  been,  I  think, 
about  a  score  of  trans-Channel  balloon  voyages,  ex- 
clusive of  MM.  Bleriot's  and  de  Lesseps'  successful 
flights  on  monoplanes,  and  Mr.  Rolls'  double  journey 
on  a  biplane,  and  in  the  case  of  about  half  this  number 
the  start  has  been  made  from  England.  In  addition 
there  have  been  three  trips  from  Dublin  to  England, 
and  one  across  the  Bristol  Channel.  In  all,  these 
trips  have  cost  five  lives.  In  seven  cases  the  aerial 
travellers  were  cast  into  the  sea,  but  picked  up  by 
vessels.  Amongst  the  most  notable  voyages  over 
the  water  within  my  own  ballooning  experiences 
were — 

(1)  Colonel  Burnaby's,  March  23,  1882. 

(2)  Simmons's,  June  10,  1882  (when  I  broke  my 
leg). 

(3)  M.  L'Hoste's,  Sept.  9,  1883. 

(4)  Simmons's,  Sept.  13,  1883  (about  six  weeks 
after  our  voyage  across  the  North  Sea). 

(5)  M.  L'Hoste's,  August  7,  1884. 

(6)  General  Brine's  and  Dale's,  August  15,  1884. 
Since  the  last-named  date  M.  L'Hoste,  as  we  have 

seen,  has  been  drowned  ;  Simmons  killed  (August  27, 
1888)  close  to  my  own  house,  and  the  scenes  of 
several  of  his  sensational  exploits  ;  and  Dale  killed 
at  the  Crystal  Palace  on  June  29,  1892.  General 
Brine  has  also  long  since  "  joined  the  majority." 


156  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

Thus  of  six  balloonists  who  were  all  bent  on  crossing 
and  recrossing  the  water  a  few  years  ago,  only  one 
remains  to-day  to  tell  the  tale,  namely,  myself.  With 
Burnaby's  end  all  the  world  is  familiar.  His  fame 
is  as  great  and  untarnished  as  on  the  day  when 
England  first  heard  of,  and  mourned  over,  the  loss  of 
one  of  her  bravest  soldiers.  If  any  one  were  base 
enough  to  ask  of  what  avail  to  his  land  were 
Burnaby's  gallant  deeds  on  the  field  of  battle,  there 
could  be  no  better  reply  than  this — 

"  The  greatest  gift  a  hero  leaves  his  country 
Is  to  have  been  a  hero." 

The  Channel  trips  have  unquestionably  been  made 
at  a  considerable  sacrifice  of  life,  but  it  is  doubtful 
whether  ballooning  is  quite  so  perilous  a  pursuit  as 
generally  regarded.  In  the  course  of  ten  thousand 
ascents,  in  which  fifteen  hundred  aeronauts  were 
engaged,  it  was  calculated  not  long  since  that  only 
fifteen  lives  were  lost,  less  than  one  in  every  seven 
hundred  ascents.  I  have  not  had  an  opportunity  of 
checking  these  figures  myself,  and  probably  they  do 
not  include  all  the  ascents  made  during  recent  years  ; 
but  they  appear  to  be  on  fairly  reliable  authority, 
and,  even  if  not  perfectly  accurate,  help  to  throw 
some  light  on  the  matter. 

Ever  since  I  saw  the  ballooning,  ineffectual 
though  it  usually  was,  during  the  siege  of  Paris,  I 
have  always  believed  that  the  aeronaut  ought  to  be 
of  great  service  in  campaigns.  It  was  my  ambition, 
even  whilst  I  was  lying  helpless  after  the  accident 
at  Maldon,  to  assist  the  British  army  in  Egypt  by 
means  of  ballooning.     I  felt  sure  if  I  could  make  a 


SOME   BALLOONING   EXPERIENCES    157 

successful  ascent  or  two  I  should  be  able  to  materially 
assist  the  General  in  command.  Accordingly,  hoping 
to  be  soon  on  my  feet  again,  I  wrote  and  proffered 
my  services,  but  received  a  reply  to  the  effect  that  it 
had  been  decided  not  to  use  a  balloon  at  all  in  the 
course  of  this  campaign.  None  the  less  I  made  up 
my  mind  that  if  I  got  well  I  would  go  out  on  my 
own  responsibility  and  take  my  balloon  with  me.  It 
was  a  great  disappointment  as  the  days  and  weeks 
wore  on  to  find  that  there  was  no  hope  of  my  leg 
getting  right  again  in  time  to  accomplish  this  inten- 
tion. The  injury  was  a  worse  one  than  I  had  sup- 
posed. I  may  add  that  in  my  opinion,  as  in  that  of 
a  good  many  others,  a  balloon  would  have  been  much 
more  serviceable  than  the  armour  train  which  was 
actually  used,  and  which  proved  no  very  great 
success. 

After  this  date,  it  will  be  remembered,  a  balloon 
came  into  requisition  at  Suakin  in  March  1885.  This 
was  the  first  time  a  balloon  was  ever  used  by  a  British 
fleet  at  war,  and  about  that  period  the  question  of 
whether  dynamite  could  be  thrown  at  an  enemy  by 
aeronauts  was  quite  seriously  discussed.  Later  on, 
in  the  year  1887,  the  British  War  Department  con- 
ducted experiments  at  Chatham  with  a  view  of  test- 
ing the  use  of  captive  balloons  for  taking  observations 
in  war  time.  It  is  rather  more  than  a  hundred  years 
since  a  balloon  was  first  used  on  the  field  of  battle. 

Considerable  use  might  be  made  of  balloons  in 
war  time  for  the  purposes  of  photography.  I  made 
an  ascent  with  Dale  and  two  photographers  from 
Lilhe  Bridge,  our  object  being  to  take  some  good 
views  of  London,  but  unfortunately  the  atmosphere 


158  FORTY  YEAES  OF  A  SPORTSMAN^S  LIFE 

became  clouded  and  we  were  not  successful.  We 
descended  at  Walton  Heath  without  mishap,  or  indeed 
any  notable  adventure,  and  afterwards  there  was  a 
lecture  at  the  Society  on  an  electrical  stationary 
balloon  which  had  recently  been  invented.  Colonel 
Hope,  V.C.,  seconded  the  President's  proposal  that 
a  volunteer  balloon  scientific  chair  should  be  formed. 
Reference  was  also  made  to  a  question  which  should 
be  of  very  general  interest,  namely,  on  the  taking 
of  observations  from  a  balloon  for  meteorological 
purposes,  which  would  enable  weather  forecasts  to 
be  made  with  much  greater  certainty  and  definiteness 
than  at  present. 

Before  quitting  the  subject  it  may  be  well  to  re- 
mind the  public  why  it  was  that  the  ballooning  experi- 
ments at  Suakin,  and  also  in  Bechuanaland,  proved 
of  little  use.  These  experiments  were  comparatively 
unsuccessful,  I  believe,  because  the  wind  happened 
to  be  almost  invariably  unfavourable  for  the  purpose 
of  the  aeronauts.  It  may  be  readily  understood  that 
a  captive  balloon  is  only  of  use  in  the  absence  of 
anything  like  a  strong  wind.  The  department  was 
under  the  charge  of  Majors  Templar  and  Elsdale, 
who  caused  all  the  hydrogen  gas  to  be  conveyed  to 
the  scene  of  action  from  Chatham.  The  balloons 
were  manufactured  out  of  gold-beaters'  skins. 

I  conclude  with  what  may  prove  a  useful  tip  to 
aeronauts,  who  have  not  made  up  their  minds  as 
to  the  best  kind  of  liquor  to  take  with  them  for 
refreshment,  and  with  a  ballooning  incident  not 
without  humour,  though  I  quite  failed  to  see  it  in 
such  a  light  at  the  time  it  occurred.  I  feel  sure  the 
blue  ribbon  army — though  I  am  not  yet  exactly  one 


SOME    BALLOONING    EXPERIENCES    159 

of  their  number — would  approve  of  the  beverage  I 
firmly  beheve  in  and  always  take  with  me  a-balloon- 
ing — cold  tea.  I  first  learnt  its  virtue  in  my  soldier- 
ing and  sporting  days  in  India.  It  is  an  admirable 
refresher  for  men  engaged  in  any  precarious  or  ex- 
citing occupation  when  alcohol  is,  or  ought  to  be, 
out  of  the  question.  Bottled  beer  in  the  rarefied 
air  into  which  the  aeronaut  plunges  will,  so  Simmons 
assured  me,  nearly  always  burst. 

As  regards  the  humorous  ballooning  incident,  it 
was  this.  On  a  certain  occasion  I  had  arranged  to 
have  the  balloon  I  had  hired  inflated  and  ready  for 
the  ascent  considerably  before  mid-day.  When  the 
appointed  time  arrived,  however,  the  preparations 
were  not  nearly  complete.  An  hour  passed  by,  and 
the  work  of  inflation  was  still  unaccomplished. 
Daylight  is  almost  above  all  other  things  precious 
to  the  balloonist,  and  here  we  were  wasting  the 
best  part  of  the  morning.  Meanwhile  as  I  waited 
and  fretted  big  crowds  of  people  poured  into  the 
field  from  which  the  ascent  was  to  take  place.  I 
am  not  sure  whether  the  railway  did  not  run  special 
and  excursion  trains  to  accommodate  those  who 
desired  to  see  us  start.  It  afterwards  transpired 
that  the  enterprising  person  who  was  entrusted  with 
the  work  of  inflation  had  charge  of  the  gas  works 
through  which  the  spectators  passed,  and  had  con- 
ceived the  idea  of  charging  them  sixpence  each. 
Naturally  the  longer  the  inflation  of  the  balloon  took, 
the  larger  his  receipts.  It  must  have  gone  against 
the  grain  to  let  us  start  before  nightfall ! 


CHAPTER   VI 

MORE    STEEPLECHASING 

"M[  OW  for  a  real  downright  pig  of  a  horse  com- 
mend  me  to  Condor  the  Second.  He  was  a 
horse  of  course  of  a  vastly  different  calibre  from  Baron 
Hill,  quite  apart  from  the  question  of  behaviour. 
Condor  in  fact  could  do  almost  anything  he  chose, 
but  then  he  never  did  choose.  I  rode  him  for  Jones 
on  January  16,  1885,  at  Wye,  when  he  was  top 
weight  by  ten  pounds.  He  could  probably  have 
won  if  he  had  cared  to,  but,  as  it  was,  got  well  beaten, 
only  coming  in  third.  Lady  Mildred  was  first,  and 
Madame  Neruda,  ridden  by  Mr.  Goodwin,  second, 
in  this  hurdle  race,  the  Olanteigh  Towers  Handicap. 
Again  on  April  7  of  the  same  year  I  rode  Condor  the 
Second  for  Jones,  that  time  at  Lewes.  I  was  actually 
winning,  when  he  suddenly  took  it  into  his  obstinate 
head  to  stop  short,  and  there  was  an  end  of  it.  I 
was  top  weight,  or  something  like  it,  on  the  occasion, 
but  this  had  nothing  to  do  with  my  not  winning,  for 
he  was  not  in  the  least  beaten  when  he  gave  up.  On 
the  flat,  as  well  as  steeplechasing.  Condor  nearly 
always  behaved  in  the  same  way.  Webb,  Arthur 
Hall,  and  other  leading   jockeys  had  been  tried  as 

160 


MORE    STEEPLECHASING  I6l 

his  riders,  and  tried,  as  a  rule,  in  vain.  I  asked 
Fred  Archer,  who  had  ridden  Condor  the  Second 
more  than  once,  whether  the  brute  behaved  in  the 
same  way  with  him,  and  his  reply  was,  "  Yes, 
always." 

March  14,  1885. — Champion  Lodge  Hunt  and 
Mihtary  Steeplechases.  Once  again  we  had  excellent 
weather  and  a  big  attendance.  In  the  first  event, 
the  Point  to  Point  Steeplechase,  Kaliph,  owned  and 
ridden  by  my  brother,  was  alone  backed.  He  won 
anyhow.  In  the  Hunt  Cup,  Sporran  was  fancied. 
I  made  play  on  him  for  about  three-quarters  of  a 
mile,  after  which  we  had  a  ding-dong  race  till  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  winning-post,  when  Mr. 
Cooke's  Hochheimer,  ridden  by  Mr.  E-odwell,  forged 
ahead  and  won  easily.  Sporran  finished  third.  In 
the  Farmers'  Plate  I  had  a  mount  on  Mr.  Rust's 
Architect,  and  was  again  fancied.  I  jumped  them 
all  down,  and  finished  at  my  leisure.  My  brother 
Tyrell  won  the  Hurdle  Race  Plate  on  Elmina,  who 
was  made  favourite,  whilst  Forester  with  myself 
up  did  not  pass  the  post.  After  a  rattling  fine  race 
for  the  United  Service  Cup,  I  was  beaten  on  Cold- 
stream by  Mr.  W.  Cobbett's  Maryx.  The  latter 
was  ridden  by  Mr.  J.  Cobbett,  and  fell  at  the  water- 
jump,  but  all  the  same  managed  to  win  the  race.  In 
the  Consolation  Steeplechase  only  two  started,  my 
brother  and  myself.  I  won  on  Sporran,  by  a  little 
less  than  a  length  after  a  good  race,  though  at  first 
he  refused  the  water.  The  owner  of  my  brother's 
mount  expressed  great  dissatisfaction  at  the  result, 
and  seemed  to  suppose  the  race  had  been  thrown 
away.     Thereupon  I  offered  to  ride  the  race  again, 

11 


162  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

with  my  brother  or  any  jockey  in  England  whom 
he  might  select,  on  Nimrod,  but  the  ofier  was  not 
accepted,  and  the  affair  passed  off. 

Colonel,  afterwards  General,  Byrne  was  invariably 
one  of  the  Stewards  at  this  meeting,  as  at  others 
in  the  county.  We  all  knew  him  as  "  one  of  the 
best."  He  was  called  in  the  Service  "  Gentleman 
Byrne,''  owing  to  the  refinement  of  his  manners. 
Many  anecdotes  are  told  which  show  that  "  Gentle- 
man Byrne  "  did  fairly  earn  his  sobriquet.  During 
the  Fenian  Riots  he  was  in  command  of  his  Battery 
at  the  Curragh.  Strict  orders  were  given  that  no 
officer  should  go  to  Dublin  without  special  permis- 
sion of  the  General  officer.  This  was  very  irksome 
to  some  spirited  young  fellows,  one  of  whom  resolved, 
come  what  might,  to  break  through  the  regulation. 
He  accordingly  took  his  ticket  for  Dublin,  and  got 
into  a  railway-carriage,  in  the  far  corner  of  which  sat 
a  gentleman  hidden  behind  a  newspaper.  After  the 
train  had  started  the  paper  came  down,  and  revealed 
to  the  culprit's  horrified  gaze  none  other  than  one 
of  the  field-officers  of  the  division.  "  Gentleman 
Byrne  "  recognized  his  travelhng  companion.  But 
instead  of  reprimanding  and  afterwards  putting  him 
under  arrest,  he  treated  him  with  the  greatest  cour- 
tesy, and  even  offered  to  place  at  his  disposal  his  own 
phaeton,  which  would  be  waiting  the  arrival  of  the 
train  at  Dublin. 

One  of  the  drawbacks  of  having  a  clinking  good 
horse  must  always  be  that  bores  cease  not  to  pester 
the  owner  as  to  whether  or  no  he  fancies  it  for  various 
races.  What  struck  me  as  a  decidedly  neat  snub  was 
administered  by  Byrne  at  Ascot  one  afternoon  to  a 


MORE    STEEPLECHASING  163 

persistent  bore.  The  would-be  plunger  rushed  at 
the  General  as  he  was  mounting  the  iron  staircase  to 
see  his  horse  Amphion  run,  and  asked  could  he  give 
the  weight  ?  "  That  is  what  I  am  now  climbing 
these  steps,"  replied  the  General  most  politely,  with 
a  wave  of  his  binoculars,  "  to  see." 

The  Point  to  Point  Steeplechase  has  always  been 
a  favourite  one  with  many  local  people  at  the  Cham- 
pion Lodge  meeting,  and  the  same  thing  obtains  in 
other  local  gatherings.  At  one  time  we  were  rather 
hampered  by  the  regulations  of  the  National  Hunt 
Committee,  which  tended  to  somewhat  severely 
penalize  riders  who  took  part  in  these  races.  The 
whole  question  of  the  Point  to  Point  came  up  in  1885, 
when  the  following  motion  was  set  down  for  a  meet- 
ing at  Weatherby's  in  the  name  of  the  Stewards  : 
"  Horses  having  once  run  in  Point  to  Point  steeple- 
chases will  not  be  quahfied  to  run  in  races  under  these 
rules  until  a  certificate  of  the  Point  to  Point  steeple- 
chase in  which  they  ran,  signed  by  a  Master  of  Stag- 
hounds  or  Foxhounds,  be  lodged  with  Messrs. 
Weatherby,  who  will  register  and  advertise  it  in 
their  Calendar  on  payment  of  one  Sov.,  and  a  horse 
having  won  under  these  conditions  will  not  be  con- 
sidered a  winner  under  these  rules.     The  certificate 

to  be  as  follows  :    (1)  I  hereby  certify  that bond 

fide  Point  to  Point  Steeplechase  took  place  at  

on  day.  (2)  That  not  more  than  three  steeple- 
chases took  place  there  on  that  day.  (3)  That 
the  course  was  practically  unflagged.  (4)  That  the 
races  were  for  bond  fide  maiden  hunters  only.  (5) 
That  no  money  was  taken  at  the  gates,  or  at  any 
stand   or   enclosure   in   connection   with   the   races. 


164  FOETY  YEAES  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

(6)  That  the  winning-post  was  placed  within  the 
Kmits  of  the  country  hunted  over  by  my  hounds." 

It  was  no  doubt  time  to  take  action  in  regard  to 
Point  to  Point  steeplechases,  but  I  ventured  to  plead 
at  the  time  for  a  little  relaxation  of  this  rather 
stringent  certificate.  We  in  Essex  were  accustomed 
to  carry  out  this,  the  most  popular  race  of  the  day, 
by  ending  on  the  run-in  of  the  steeplechase-course, 
where  everybody  could  see  the  finish  with  far  more 
comfort  than  they  would  if  the  winning-post  were 
elsewhere.  Many  hunting  men  will  not  sport  silk 
between  flags,  but  they  are  quite  ready  to  put  on 
their  hunting  coats  for  a  Point  to  Point.  It  was  in 
the  interest  of  such  sportsmen  that  I  ventured  to 
speak  up  for  this  particular  kind  of  race.  Personally 
I  have  never  had  a  preference  for  any  one  class  of 
race  qr  steeplechase  as  against  another.  But  some 
have  strong  views  on  the  subject.  A  lady  once 
remarked  to  me  that  she  would  far  sooner  win  the 
Point  to  Point  than  the  Ladies'  Cup,  it  being  "  such 
a  much  more  sporting  event." 

It  is  impossible  to  so  organize  your  race  meetings 
as  to  exclude  all  blacklegs  and  light-fingered  gentry  ; 
and  almost  the  only  jarring  note  in  the  chorus  of 
approval  which  greeted  these  annual  concourses  arose 
from  those  who  seemed  to  think  that  I  was  personally 
responsible  for  the  occasional  misconduct  of  unde- 
sirable visitors.  There  was  some  correspondence 
respecting  the  theft  of  a  watch  and  chain  from  a 
clergyman  who  attended  the  meeting  one  year,  and 
really  I  do  believe  that  a  few  enthusiastic  anti-sport 
folk  considered  I  was  responsible  in  the  matter  !  It 
was  urged  seriously  that  I  ought  not  to  advertise  the 


MORE    STEEPLECHASING  165 

meeting,  because  this  brought  down  bookmakers 
and  sharpers  from  town.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  one 
is  bound  to  advertise  meetings  held  under  the  aegis 
of  the  National  Hunt  Committee.  I  pointed  out 
that  you  might  as  well  hold  the  Stewards  of  the 
Jockey  Club  responsible  for  all  the  offences  of  a 
similar  kind  committed  at  Newmarket  or  elsewhere. 
But  it  is  no  use  arguing  with  your  anti-gambling, 
anti-sport  faddist — any  more  than  it  is  any  good 
for  him  to  argue  with  you  ! 

The  next  day  but  one  found  me  riding  again  at 
Chelmsford.  On  this  occasion  I  had  a  mount  on 
Sir  Henry  Selwin-Ibbetson's  Deception,  and  won 
the  Chelmsford  Steeplechase.  This  horse  was  very 
bad  at  starting.  He  whipped  round  just  before  we 
got  away,  and  lost  a  hundred  yards  or  so.  Fortu- 
nately I  got  off  all  right  in  the  end,  and  made  up  for 
lost  time,  thanks  chiefly  to  the  consideration  of  the 
starter,  who  ran  the  other  side  of  my  horse  and 
waved  the  flag  at  him.  This  had  the  desired  effect, 
and  I  proceeded  to  make  the  pace  a  regular  "  cracker." 
Now  Architect,  the  horse  I  had  steered  to  victory  a 
few  days  before,  was  in  this  race,  and  I  was  the  un- 
conscious agent  of  his  destruction.  The  pace  killed 
the  old  horse,  and  he  fell  dead  on  the  course  about 
a  mile  from  home. 

Next  month  I  was  busy  at  various  meetings,  such 
as  Lewes,  Harlow,  Ipswich,  and  Plumstead.  At 
the  last-named  I  rode  Sporran  on  April  11,  but  failed 
to  score  in  the  Open  Military  Plate,  which  was  won 
by  Mr.  Lawson's  Hay  Fever.  At  Harlow  I  rode 
Romeo  for  Sir  Henry  Selwin-Ibbetson  in  the  Essex 
Open  Steeplechase,  and  again  in  the   Consolation  ; 


166  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

I  was  second  in  the  former,  which  was  won  by  Stud 
Groom,  with  Mr.  Colvin  up,  and  fell  in  the  latter, 
which  Mr.  H.  E.  Jones  secured  on  Knight.  The 
Essex  Open,  by  the  way,  I  should  have  won  save  for 
a  bit  of  bad  luck.  I  got  up  beside  the  leading  horse, 
and  found  I  had  got  him  beaten.  But  a  few  moments 
later  Romeo  blundered  and  lost  the  race.  Deception, 
my  winning  mount  at  Chelmsford  the  previous  month, 
won  the  Light  Weight  Hunt  Cup  in  a  canter,  with 
L  Bailey  riding.  These  steeplechases  were  of  a 
private  character,  and  held  in  connection  with  the 
Essex  Hunt.  The  second  day  was  a  great  one  for 
the  favourites,  nearly  all  of  whom  came  in  first. 

At  Ipswich,  on  April  16  and  17,  I  did  myself  well, 
riding  in  three  races  the  first  day  and  five  the  second 
day  out  of  a  possible  six  ;  the  only  race  I  could  not 
get  a  mount  in  being  the  Harrier  Hunt  Cup,  given 
by  the  Duke  of  Hamilton,  for  half-bred  horses,  bond 
fide  hunted  with  the  Hamilton  Harriers  during  the 
season  1884-5.  The  first  day  I  did  nothing  worth 
speaking  of,  but  was  more  in  luck's  way  on  the 
second.  I  scored  nothing  on  Romeo  in  the  first 
event,  a  Maiden  Hunters'  Steeplechase.  Starting 
favourite  on  a  horse  called  Shylock,  in  a  small  field 
in  the  Essex  and  Suffolk  Red  Coat  Race,  I  won  by 
something  like  nine  or  ten  lengths  from  Foxhound, 
ridden  by  Mr.  Alexander.  In  the  following  race  I 
rode  a  four-year-old,  carrying  11  st.  2  lbs.,  Mr.  Poole's 
Ariosto,  against  Soubrette  and  Stella,  which  also 
belonged  to  Mr.  Poole.  I  was  badly  beaten,  coming 
in  second,  however,  as  Stella  stopped  dead  in  the 
middle  of  a  field  before  we  had  gone  a  great  way.  I 
was  also  second  in  the  next  race  on  my  own  horse 


MORE    STEEPLECHASINa  167 

Sporran,  being  beaten  by  a  length  or  so.  It  trans- 
pired in  the  weighing-in  after  this  race  that  I  had 
carried  seven  pounds  too  much,  which  made  a  differ- 
ence, no  doubt.  The  last  race  of  the  day,  the  Eastern 
Counties  Hunt  Cup,  I  won  on  Sir  Henry  Selwin- 
Ibbetson's  Maid-of-all-Work,  a  rather  nice  mare. 

I  did  not  feel  particularly  in  need  of  a  rest  after 
this  pretty  stiff  dose  of  chasing  at  Ipswich,  so  went 
down  to  ride  in  the  Isle  of  Wight.  On  April  21  were 
the  Castle  Club  Races,  and  next  day  the  Isle  of  Wight 
Hunt  Chases.  I  returned  home,  however,  without 
having  scored  anything,  and  after  a  day  or  two  at 
Epsom,  turned  up  at  Sevenoaks  on  May  13.  I  rode 
a  horse  in  Jones's  stable  simply  for  a  certificate,  and 
was  told  he  could  jump  anything  standing,  but  always 
made  a  rule  of  refusing  the  open  ditch.  The  infor- 
mation was  correct.  I  got  him  up  to  the  ditch  all 
right,  and  there  the  brute  stuck.  A  perfect  swarm 
of  stable-boys  came  running  up,  and  tried  their  level 
best  with  clothes-props  to  help  me  get  him  over  the 
ditch,  which  he  eventually  did  jump  standing.  The 
annoying  part  of  the  affair  was  that  several  of  the 
well-intended,  but  ill-delivered,  blows  of  the  stable- 
boys  fell  on  my  shoulders  rather  than  on  the  horse's 
quarters.  So  ended  my  spring  chasing  season 
of  1885. 

In  the  autumn  and  winter  of  1885  I  did  more 
hunting  and  shooting  than  chasing,  but  was  as  usual 
a  good  deal  at  Epsom.  October  9,  1885,  is  a  black- 
letter  day  in  my  diary.  Cartridge,  purchased  in  1876, 
had  to  be  shot.  She  was  the  cleverest  of  jumpers, 
with,  as  I  have  mentioned,  a  great  reputation  in 
Essex. 


168  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

A  horse  which  recalls  much  less  pleasant  memories 
than  Cartridge  is  Forester,  whom  I  was  riding  about 
this  time.  He  was  a  purchase  from  Joneses  stables, 
and  never  won  me  a  race.  I  gave  £200  for  the 
horse,  and  at  a  time  when  half  that  sum  would  have 
purchased  a  clinking  good  animal  called  Standard, 
who  soon  afterwards  won  the  Grand  Military,  or 
Amethyst,  who  won  a  big  steeplechase  at  Worcester, 
and  another  at  Leamington  a  little  later  on.  Fores- 
ter cost  a  good  deal  of  money  in  all  before  we  were 
happily  rid  of  him,  and  he  was  the  most  expensive 
horse  and  biggest  crock  I  ever  possessed.  He  was 
given  away  to  a  friend  as  a  park  hack,  and  fell  down 
dead  not  a  great  while  afterwards. 

A  rough-up  at  Sandown  early  in  March  1886  was 
disastrous  to  Red  Hussar,  a  very  fine  horse  indeed. 
Jones  was  anxious  to  give  Coquette,  belonging  to 
his  Royal  Highness  the  Prince  of  Wales,  all  the 
schooling  possible  in  order  that  she  might  have  a  good 
chance  of  winning  the  Grand  Military  Gold  Cup,  in 
which  she  was  shortly  to  run.  Bewicke  was  on  Red 
Hussar,  Fisher  on  Coquette,  and  I  on  Flushing.  The 
ground  was  terribly  hard,  and  we  really  ought  not  to 
have  been  out  at  all.  Red  Hussar,  before  we  had 
gone  very  far,  split  a  pastern,  and  had  to  be  at  once 
destroyed.  The  horse  was  so  great  a  favourite  that 
before  he  had  lain  dead  for  ten  minutes  almost  every 
scrap  of  hair  had  been  cut  from  the  mane  and  tail 
by  the  mob  to  be  kept  by  way  of  mementoes.  How 
hard  the  ground  was  may  be  judged  by  the  fact  that 
there  were  something  like  ten  broken  collar-bones 
in  Jones's  and  Iquique's  stables,  about  half  of  which 
were  snapped  that  afternoon.     An  offer  to  buy  Red 


MORE   STEEPLECHASING  169 

Hussar  had  come  from  a  high  quarter  very  shortly 
before  this  misfortune,  and  it  was  known  that  a  heavy 
sum  had  been  named  as  the  price. 

Tliis  training  disaster  reminds  me  of  a  most  un- 
fortunate trial,  the  particulars  of  which  were  related 
to  me  by  an  old  chasing  comrade.  Returning  one 
evening  from  Wye,  having  most  unexpectedly  landed 
an  eight-to-one  chance  and  upset  a  good  thing  of 
Yates's  with  Sensier  up,  I  strolled  into  the  Naval  and 
Military  Club,  when  a  cheery  hail  from  the  depths 
of  an  armchair,  "  Have  you  dined,  old  fellow  ?  " 
revealed  to  me  the  beaming  countenance  of  Billy 
Morris — now,  alas  !  no  more,  killed,  like  Whyte 
Melville,  in  a  grip  no  bigger  than  a  water-furrow. 
Having  told  him  I  had  dined,  he  replied — • 

"  Well,  bring  yourself  to  an  anchor,  and  let's  have 
some  coffee,  a  smoke,  and  a  yarn." 

This  suited  me  well,  as  I  had  as  much  respect  for 
little  Billy's  head  as  his  hands,  which  were  generally, 
if  not  unanimously,  admitted  to  be  the  best  in  the 
British  army.  Amongst  my  steeplechasing  acquaint- 
ances there  was  not  one  his  equal  in  observing  and 
graphically  describing  the  incidents  of  a  cross-country 
event.  Being  connected  with  the  same  stable,  a  topic 
of  mutual  interest  was  not  difficult  to  find.  As  one 
of  our  nags  was  first  favourite  for  the  big  event  at 
Croydon  to  be  decided  the  following  week,  I  hazarded 
a  suggestion  that  it  was  a  good  thing  for  us.  A 
groan  was  the  only  answer. 

"  Halloa,  old  chap,  what's  up  ;  a  twinge  of  rheu- 
matics ?  " 

"  Oh,  of  course  you  know  nothing  about  it,"  was 
the  reply  ;    and  forthwith  Billy  proceeded  to  unfold 


170  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

his  tale  of  woe,  which  I  will  try  and  relate  as  much 
as  possible  in  his  own  words.  "  We're  now  at  York, 
as  you  are  aware.  Yesterday  morning  a  wire  was 
handed  me  from  Marcus,  '  Come  at  once,  do  not  fail.' 
The  chief,  with  a  merry  twinkle,  pretty  shrewdly 
guessed  what  the  game  was,  and  at  once  granted 
leave.  Though  he  doesn't  sport  silk  now,  you  know 
what  a  bad  one  to  beat  he  is  with  hounds.  You 
remember  what  a  cracker  he  led  us  with  that  good 
up-wind  afternoon  dog-fox  from  Lightly,  right  under 
your  own  windows,  along  the  straight  run-in  of  your 
private  course,  through  South  Wood,  across  the  very 
best  of  your  country,  past  Squarson  Leigh's,  with 
those  fine  horsemen,  George  Blake  on  Cartridge  and 
Billy  White  on  Tommy  Dodd,  riding  knee  to  knee 
in  a  way  which  reminded  one  of  the  old  days  over 
the  Middlewick  course.  By  the  bye,  our  brave  old 
Chilblain  was  out  that  day,  and  your  delight  when 
the  Tedworth  Finder  pulled  the  fox  down  in — where 
was  it,  Holland  or  Jamaica  ? — for  no  fox-hunter  had 
ever  before  seen  the  death  honours  of  a  fox  in  such  a 
morass  as  was  your  East  Anglian  lagoon.  But  I'm 
rather  running  riot.  Catching  a  fast  train  south, 
I'd  time  for  a  snack  at  the  '  Spurs,'  and  to  get  com- 
fortably down  to  Epsom  Station,  where  our  worthy 
trainer  and  jockey,  Jack  Jones,  met  me  and  soon 
rattled  me  up  to  Priam  Lodge.  There  I  found 
Marcus,  and  Jack's  brother-in-law,  Arthur  Hall. 
Ensconced  in  Jack's  snuggery,  which  is  so  tastefully 
decorated  with  many  mementoes  of  his  patrons'  good- 
will, a  characteristic  evening  was  spent  discussing 
our  battles  past,  present,  and  future — not  the  least 
important,  of  which  was  that  which  had  been  the 


MORE    STEEPLECHASING  171 

cause  of  my  wire,  viz.  that  C ,  the  favourite  for 

the  Great  Croydon  Handicap,  was  to  be  '  asked  the 
question '  the  following  morning,  and  we  saw  no 
particular  reason  why  the  noble  army  of  touts  should 
know  more  of  the  stable  secrets  than  we  could  help. 
Jack,  of  course,  was  to  ride  the  favourite.  Marc  old 
Woodcock,  a  most  reliable  trial  horse,  whilst  Hall 

and  I  were  to  have  the  mounts  on  Q and  T 

respectively  to  ensure  a  pace.  Mrs.  Jack  had  care- 
fully locked  the  lads  in  their  dormitories,  from  which 

durance  vile  they  would  not  be  released  till  C 

had  satisfactorily  or  otherwise  been  through  the 
mill.  Weights  having  been  carefully  adjusted,  about 
two  hours  before  daylight  we  adjourned  to  the  stables, 
saddled  our  horses,  mounted  and  jogged  along  by 
the  bye-lanes  to  Sandown,  where  everything  had 
previously  been  quietly  prepared.  As  day  began 
to  break  we  could  distinguish  the  trees  above  and 
beyond  the  grand  stand.  Having  filed  on  to  the 
course,  but  little  time  was  lost  in  getting  into  line 

and  starting.      Q jumping  a  bit  the   quickest 

into  her  bridle,  led  up  to  the  first  flight  of  hurdles, 
where  she  showed  temper,  and  whipping  round  ab- 
surdly carried  the  others  with  her.  So  we  laughingly 
returned  to  the  starting  post.  No  mishap  followed  a 
second  attempt.  The  minor  details  of  the  trial  will 
hardly  interest  you.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  it  was  a 
fast-run  one.  Hall  and  I  had  performed  our  allotted 
tasks,  and  were  easing  our  horses  somewhere  oppo- 
site the  lower  part  of  the  public  stand  enclosure,  and, 
although  at  the  wrong  angle,  watched  the  finish,  so 
far  as  we  could,  with  considerable  interest.  With 
one  of  his  powerful  rushes  Jack  seemed  to  come  away 


172  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

from  the  half  distance,  and  gradually  overhauling 
game  old  Woodcock  a  few  strides  from  the  winning- 
post,  landed  C a  clever  winner.     He  subsequently 

ascertained  it  was  three-quarters  of  a  length.  A 
gratified  look  had  hardly  passed  between  us,  and  a 
misty  idea  that  the  bookies'  shekels  were  in  my 
pocket,  and  that  there  would  be  no  difficulty  in 
springing  that  extra  pony  which  would  transfer  that 
raking  chestnut  of  Bob's  from  his  stable  to  mine,  and 
the  following  week  the  Rugby  Venus  Tankard  from 
Hunt  and  Roskell's  shop-window  to  my  sideboard, 
when  a  remark  from  Hall  arrested  my  attention.  '  I 
don't  like  the  way  the  master's  dismounted ;  hope 
there's  nothing  wrong.'     Increasing  our  pace  up  the 

hill  we  found  something  very  much  wrong.     C 

was  on  three  legs  ;  he  had  broken  down  the  stride 
past  the  post.  The  glorious  uncertainty  had  indeed 
reminded  us  of  its  existence,  to  our  great  discom- 
fiture. Leaving  Hall  to  make  the  cripple  as  com- 
fortable as  circumstances  would  admit,  a  somewhat 
melancholy  trio  wended  their  way  back  to  Epsom. 
On  arriving  outside  the  stables,  Jack's  face  was  a 
study  at  seeing  the  touts  squatting  about  like  so 
many  peccaries,  waiting  the  favourite's  appearance 
for  morning  exercise.  '  I  hardly  suppose  the  mischief 
has  leaked  out  yet.  Here,  waiter,  give  me  the 
"  Special."  '  By  Jove,  hasn't  it,  though  !  look  here, 
sixty-six  to  one  ofiered.  The  acumen  of  touts  is 
simply  appalling." 

This  breakdown  was  naturally  a  bit  of  a  facer,  but 
fortunately  just  then  the  stable  was  in  rare  form, 
and  by  the  time  the  so-called  illegitimate  season 
had  closed,  the  winning  brackets  represented  a  for- 


MORE   STEEPLECHASING  173 

midable  total,  and  the  balance  at  Weatherby's  a 
correspondingly  healthy  appearance.  Not  a  small 
proportion  of  the  brackets  was  earned  in  military 
steeplechases,  the  winners  of  which  were  almost 
invariably  ridden  by  poor  little  Morris. 

March  23,  1886,  the  date  of  the  Chelmsford  Steeple- 
chases, was  a  blank  day  to  me  so  far  as  the  scoring 
of  any  win  was  concerned.  I  rode,  however,  in  five 
races,  and  was  placed  in  three  of  them.  In  the 
Chelmsford  Steeplechases  Plate  I  started  favourite 
on  Ubique,  who  broke  down  badly,  the  event  being 
won  by  Maid-of-all-Work  ;  favourite  again  in  the 
Roothing  Steeplechase  Plate  on  Mr.  Poole's  Heath, 
was  well  beaten  by  Lady  Bell ;  second  favourite  in 
the  Essex  Open  Hunters"  Steeplechase  on  Merrilegs, 
was  placed  third  ;  an  outsider  in  a  Hunters'  Selling 
Steeplechase  on  Sporran,  was  second  to  Mr.  Percion's 
Matilda  ;  whilst  in  a  fifth  race  was  of  course  out 
of  it  on  that  brute  Forester — not  a  very  satisfactory 
day,  considering  I  had  ridden  in  five  out  of  six  races. 

This  year  the  Champion  Lodge  meeting  fell  on 
April  1.  I  rode  in  six  events  that  day,  and  in  four 
of  them  was  second,  being  quite  out  of  it  in  the  other 
two.  The  Ladies'  Cup  fell  to  Mr.  Barkley's  Problem, 
the  wretched  Forester  being  second  in  this  race,  and 
nowhere  in  the  last  event  of  the  day,  the  Consolation. 
Captain  Henderson's  Paleface,  ridden  by  Mr.  Pure- 
foy,  won  the  Hunt  Cup,  the  only  other  starter  being 
Sporran,  with  myself  up.  Telemachus  (Mr.  Tippler 
up)  was  first  in  the  Champion  Lodge  Cup,  and  Flushing 
second,  both  starting  at  odds  of  4  to  1  against.  Tele- 
machus also  won  the  Selling  Hunters'  Hurdle  Race 
Plate,  beating  Ariosto,  my  mount. 


174  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

I  did  not  ride  again  in  April,  but  in  both  May 
and  June  following  put  in  an  appearance  at  a  good 
few  meetings,  local  and  other.  At  Ipswich,  on  May  5, 
I  won  two  races  on  a  mare  called  Misunderstood — 
this  despite  an  ugly  fall  in  my  second  race  that  day, 
which  so  shook  me  up  that  it  was  scarcely  easy  to 
hold  the  reins.  Fortunately  Misunderstood  had  a 
beautiful  mouth,  and  was  very  easy  to  ride.  Both 
races,  namely,  the  Shrublands  Park  Maiden  Hunters' 
Steeplechase,  and  the  Essex  and  Suffolk  Red  Coat 
Race  of  three  miles  "  over  a  fair  hunting  country," 
were  won  by  three  lengths.  In  the  first  race  I  started 
second  favourite  in  spite  of  my  sprained  wrist,  and 
beat  Sir  Henry  Selwin-Ibbetson's  Lorna,  the  first 
favourite  ;  whilst  in  the  second  started  top  weight, 
and  rather  a  hot  favourite,  if  my  memory  has  not 
failed  me.  Mr.  J.  B.  Charters  came  in  second  on 
Garryowen.  In  the  Military  Steeplechase  my  mount 
was  Pictus  ;  but  though  favourite  he  did  not  succeed 
in  repeating  his  previous  successes  with  me  as  his 
rider.  Captain  Lee  Barber  also  had  a  nasty  fall  that 
day,  breaking  his  collar-bone.  The  chasing  came  off 
on  the  old  Ipswich  course. 

Talking  of  falls,  I  once  came  to  much  grief  through 
trying  to  rise  and  remount  when  there  was  a  horse 
close  behind  me.  I  got  struck  on  the  head  and 
rendered  unconscious  as  a  punishment.  It  would 
have  been  far  wiser  to  have  lain  still  and  allowed 
the  horses  behind  to  pass  over  me.  A  horse  is  as 
squeamish  as  a  tame  elephant  about  treading  on  a 
man.  Once  the  Marquess  of  Queensberry  riding  in 
a  race  at  Punchestown,  came  down  when  leading  in 
a  field  of  thirty-six.     He  lay  flat,  whilst  the  other 


MOKE   STEEPLECHASING  175 

horses  passed  over,  or  close  to,  him.  There  is  no 
denying  that  it  requires  some  patience  to  do  this, 
but  it  is  the  only  safe  course  to  adopt. 

This  reminiscence  of  Queensberry  as  a  rider  recalls 
a  rather  quaint  incident  in  his  career  as  an  owner 
of  race-horses.  He  bought  a  horse  called  Morris 
Dancer  for  £700,  and  ran  him  several  times.  The 
horse  was  over-handicapped,  however,  and  could  do 
nothing.  Quite  disgusted,  Queensberry  at  length 
resolved  to  try  and  get  rid  of  the  animal,  and  offered 
him  to  anybody  who  would  buy  him  on  the  course 
after  the  last  race.  Everybody  laughed  at  the  offer, 
till  at  last  a  butcher  ventured  to  say  he  would  run 
to  a  five-pound  note.  Queensberry  promptly  closed 
with  this  princely  offer.  Shortly  afterwards  he  was 
surprised  by  seeing  the  horse  entered  in  two  races, 
and  handicapped  no  less  than  two  stone  lighter  than 
he  had  ever  been  on  previous  occasions.  Thereupon 
he  wrote  to  the  butcher,  told  him  the  horse  couldn't 
lose,  and  asked  to  be  allowed  the  mounts.  The 
butcher  was  naturally  quite  willing,  as  the  Marquess 
was  a  fine  rider.  So  Queensberry  rode  in,  and  won 
both  races,  backing  his  mount  in  both  events.  He 
then  offered  to  buy  Morris  Dancer  back  for  £200. 
The  butcher,  nothing  loath,  consented.  At  once  the 
horse  got  over-weighted  again,  and  never  afterwards 
won  a  race. 

About  now  Blondin  was  astonishing,  or  rather 
re-astonishing,  London  with  his  tight-rope  walking 
at  the  Albert  Palace,  and  being  in  town  on  May  12, 
I  repaired  to  Battersea  one  day  to  see  the  performance. 
I  pressed  him  to  take  me  across  the  rope  ;  but  he 
made  excuse  that  the  electric  light  was  rather  trying, 


176  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

and  said  he  therefore  could  not  accede  to  my  request. 
He  would  only  take  his  son  across  with  him.  It 
seems  to  have  been  a  fact  that  his  sight  was  not  then 
what  it  had  been  a  few  years  before,  but  knowing 
his  extraordinary  surefootedness  I  had  not  the  least 
hesitation  in  making  the  request,  and  would  have 
gone  on  his  back  without  any  misgiving.  I  should 
have  made  a  point  of  not  falling  without  at  any  rate 
carrying  Blondin  along  with  me,  and  Blondin,  in  my 
opinion,  simply  could  not  fall.  He  promised  to  take 
me  across  the  rope  on  some  future  occasion  should 
a  favourable  opening  offer,  but  it  never  did. 

Southwell,  May  3,  1886. — Here  I  won  the  Hunters' 
Flat  Race  on  my  mare  Imogene,  starting  at  5  to  1 
against.  She  was  by  Queen's  Herald  out  of  Imogene, 
and  trained  by  Jones.  Captain  Maudslay's  Mercia, 
the  favourite,  was  second,  and  Mr.  Pidcock's  Soudan 
third.  This  was  one  amongst  probably  many  races 
won  by  a  long  and  painstaking  examination  of  the 
ground  early  in  the  morning.  I  found  a  shepherd's 
track,  but  so  close  to  the  rails  that  in  sticking  to  it 
in  the  race  I  quite  expected  once  or  twice  that  my 
shins  would  get  broken  against  the  heads  of  some  of 
the  spectators  who  craned  forward  to  see  the  sport, 
as  people  do  when  at  all  interested  in  an  event.  It 
was  necessary  to  hug  the  rails  for  a  good  while,  so 
as  not  to  get  ofi  the  track  into  the  deep  ground, 
through  which  the  other  horses  were  ploughing  their 
weary  way.  The  craning  necks  were  no  doubt  one 
and  all  drawn  discreetly  back  as  I  came  up  to  close 
quarters,  but  in  my  hot  haste  I  did  not  perceive 
this,  and  felt  that  an  accident  was  almost  inevitable. 

As  regards  devices   for   winning   a   race,   George 


MORE    STEEPLECHASING  177 

Fordham  had  one  which  in  the  case  of  a  very  close 
finish  was  certainly  not  likely  to  confuse  the  judge 
in  a  way  unfavourable  to  himself.  He  would  throw 
himself  forward  almost  between  the  ears  of  his  horse, 
and  so  seem  to  be  first  past  the  post  in  cases  where 
the  race  might  otherwise  have  been  adjudged  a  dead 
heat,  or  even,  it  may  be,  given  in  his  rival's  favour. 
Every  inch  in  the  case  of  a  very  close  finish  makes  a 
difference,  and  it  is  quite  conceivable  that  the  judge 
seeing  a  jockey's  colours  first  past  the  post  would 
award  the  wearer  the  race,  even  if  his  horse's  nose  was 
beaten  by  an  inch  or  two. 

At  Aylesbury,  the  same  month,  it  fell  to  my  lot 
to  ride  another  very  ill-tempered  horse — Quarter- 
master Brown's  Galloway.  It  was  on  the  flat,  but 
Galloway  suddenly  took  a  fancy  for  a  bit  of  steeple- 
chasing.  We  went  of!  the  course,  and  over  the 
brook.  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  add  that  he  was 
not  placed  in  that  race.  At  Wye,  on  June  17,  I  was 
second  to  Chorister,  ridden  by  Butcher,  in  the  Selling 
Hunters'  Hurdle  Race,  with  Imogene  ;  and  the  fol- 
lowing week  was  racing  on  the  flat  at  Stockbridge. 
Here  I  rode  Imogene  one  day  in  the  Hunters'  Plate, 
won  by  Amy  with  Billy  Bevill  up,  but  was  not 
placed  ;  and  Cutlet  in  the  Andover  Stakes,  another. 
Cutlet,  the  property  of  Arthur  Yates,  and  trained  at 
Bishops  Sutton,  was,  like  Condor  II.,  a  perfect  rogue. 
He  would  scarcely  ever  try,  but  when  he  did  was  very 
hard  to  beat.  Sensier  did  once  win  a  race  on  Cutlet, 
not  a  little  to  his  own  surprise,  starting  at  long  odds. 
In  this  race  at  Stockbridge,  Cutlet  was  quite  out  of 
it.     George  Lambton  won  on  Lord  Lurgan's  Polemic. 

When  Billy  Bevill,  the  rider  of  Amy  that  day  at 

12 


178  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

Stockbridge,  ceased  riding,  some  years  ago  now,  he 
was  the  oldest  gentleman  jockey,  or  at  least  the  oldest 
known  at  all  to  the  public,  living. 

Billy  Bevill,  like  Fred  Beauclerk,  never  believed 
much  in  his  own  oratorical  powers.  At  a  dinner  at 
one  of  the  Bibury  meetings.  Sir  John  Astley  and 
others  drank  his  health  with  acclaim.  He  got  up 
to  make  a  speech  in  response,  and  this  is  what  he 
said  :  "I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  having 
drunk  my  health,  but  I  would  a  deal  rather  ride  a 
race  than  make  a  speech."  With  that  he  sat  down 
abruptly. 

What  an  enjoyable  affair  used  the  "  Hampshire 
Week  "  to  be  in  those  days  !  The  charms  of  the 
twin  meeting  over  the  Danebury  Downs  have  been 
so  often  dwelt  upon,  that  there  is  no  need  to  repeat 
them  here.  Amongst  the  regular  frequenters  there 
were  : — Lord  Portsmouth,  Caledon  Alexander,  Sir 
John  Astley,  Lord  Falmouth,  Henry  Savile,  the 
Duke  of  Hamilton,  the  Duke  of  Beaufort,  Sir  Frede- 
rick Johnstone,  and  Lord  Alington,  Count  Kinsky, 
Prince  Soltykoff ,  Duchess  of  Montrose,  General  Owen 
Williams,  and  Sir  William  Throgmorton.  The  pass- 
ing years  have  made  a  sorry  gap  in  the  ranks  of  these 
patrons  of  Bibury. 

Flat  racing,  as  mentioned  earlier  in  this  book,  has 
never  been  either  my  metier  or  my  ambition.  It  lacks 
the  stirring  incidents,  the  hazards,  and  consequently 
the  excitement  of  the  steeplechase.  Very  few  men 
have  been  strikingly  successful,  so  far  as  my  experi- 
ence goes,  both  on  the  flat  and  across  country,  though 
now  and  again  we  come  across  a  jockey,  like  Arthur 
Coventry,  who  is  perfectly  at  home  racing  as  well 


MORE   STEEPLECHASING  179 

as  chasing.  Jim  Adams  might  presumably  have 
been  regarded  as  decidedly  successful  in  his  day  in 
both  provinces.  One  mount  in  a  big  steeplechase — 
the  Grand  National — ^was  enough  and  to  spare  for 
Webb,  and  Rickaby  has  also  made  a  little  chasing 
go  a  long  way.  Some  who  have  grown  too  weighty 
to  be  any  longer  useful  on  the  flat,  take  to  steeple- 
chasing  with  a  certain  amount  of  success,  but  they 
are  few  and  far  between.  Steeplechasing  of  course 
has  not  the  pecuniary  inducements  which  are  offered 
by  flat  racing  ;  it  has  no  Jubilees  and  Eclipses. 
Nevertheless,  Fred  Archer  always  had  a  fancy  to 
try  his  hand  at  a  big  cross-country  event  one  day. 
He  said  he  would  ride  in  the  Grand  National  before 
he  died,  but  the  intention  was  never  carried  out. 

There  was  chasing  at  Wye  in  the  early  part  of 
January  1887,  but  several  meetings  later  on  during 
this  and  the  following  month  had  to  be  abandoned 
owing  to  the  hard  frost.  I  went  down  to  Savernake 
to  ride  in  the  Steeplechases,  which  it  was  intended 
to  hold  there,  but  the  ground  was  too  iron-bound  to 
permit  of  their  coming  off,  and  we  had  to  wait  for 
sport  till  March  8.  On  that  day  the  Rugby  Chases 
were  held.  An  interesting  reunion  to  me  at  this 
meeting  was  that  between  myself  and  "  Bay  " 
Middleton.  We  had  ridden  just  twenty  years 
before,  first  and  second  respectively  in  the  South  of 
Ireland  Military,  and  had  not  once  met  as  antago- 
nists on  a  racecourse  in  the  interim.  At  Rugby 
"  Bay  "  won  a  race  on  Punjab,  and  I  one  on  Flushing. 
Twenty  years  is  a  good  slice  out  of  even  a  long 
sporting  life  ;  but  we  both  recalled  our  Iri,ih  con- 
test   very    clearly,    and   not    without    some    lively 


180  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

emotions.  "  Bay,"  by  the  way,  though  unlucky 
enough  to  lose  the  South  of  Ireland  Military,  which 
I  was  fortunate  enough  to  win  on  Maid  of  the  Mist, 
had  won  two  races  that  day  in  the  spring  of  1867, 
one  on  Black  Prince,  the  other  on  a  mare  called 
Sophy. 

My  win  at  Rugby  was  the  Ladies'  Plate.  Flush- 
ing's success  in  this  race  seemed  to  show  that  a  horse 
usually  repays  an  owner  for  individual  attention 
and  supervision.  Whilst  at  the  trainer's  this  horse, 
who  was  rented  from  Billy  White,  was  always  singu- 
larly unfortunate  ;  whereas  the  first  time  he  ran 
after  removal  to  Champion  Lodge,  where  we  were 
able  to  train  him  ourselves,  he  won  a  race.  Captain 
Elmhirst's  Vanity  Fair  came  in  second,  ridden  by 
Captain  Lindsey,  who  was  beaten  by  a  length  and 
a  half  or  so.     A  bad  third. 

Next  day  we  turned  to  Loughborough  to  take  part 
in  the  Quorn  and  Donington  Hunt  meeting.  In  a 
field  of  two  for  the  Half-bred  Steeplechase  Plate, 
the  betting  was  seven  to  four  on  my  opponent,  Mr. 
Lewin's  Brunette.  I  was  on  Chatterbox,  who  was 
hired  from  a  friend.  Brunette  won,  but  an  objec- 
tion was  lodged  and  sustained  on  the  ground  of 
not  being  a  maiden.  The  stakes  therefore  fell  to 
Chatterbox. 

Talking  of  disqualifications,  it  was  once  gravely 
stated  that  Wenty  Hope  Johnstone  in  a  race  in  Ireland 
had  appealed  against  five  opponents,  and  got  them 
all  disqualified.  Wenty  was  asked  if  that  were  so. 
He  said.  No,  it  wasn't,  but  told  of  a  decidedly  curious 
thing  that  had  occurred  in  relation  to  this  particular 
race.     He    had    lodged    an    objection    against    the 


p.  180] 


WENTY         H(J]'K    JOHNSTONE. 
(From  "  Vanity  Fair." 


MORE    STEEPLECHASING  181 

favourite,  which  was  allowed.  Now  the  owner  of 
the  favourite  was  also  the  owner  of  the  horse  Wenty 
had  ridden.  Surely  this  case  is  an  absolutely  unique 
one  ! 

One  of  the  Louises  used  to  write  "  Nothing  "  in 
his  diary — even  at  a  period  when  the  fortunes  of  his 
kingdom  were  at  stake — if  there  was  no  hunting. 
So  a  steeplechaser  at  times — during,  at  any  rate, 
the  steeplechasing  season — may  well  set  down  the 
same  word  when  he  gets  no  sport  worth  speaking 
of.  Thus  "  Nothing "  at  Chelmsford  Chases  on 
March  24,  1882,  and  ditto  at  13th  Hussars'  Chases 
at  Manningtree  on  April  12.  On  April  27,  Greek 
Fire  and  I  repaired  to  Thick  Thorn.  Greek  Fire 
would  certainly  have  been  first  instead  of  second  in 
a  fair  race  on  the  following  day,  had  not  my  oppo- 
nent ridden  clean  across,  for  which  outrage  he  ought 
to  have  been  disqualified  at  least  as  deservedly  as 
Brunette.  But  the  judge's  decision  was  not  upset. 
There  is  not  of  course  the  satisfaction,  or  anything 
like  it,  of  winning  a  race  through  the  disqualifica- 
tion of  one's  opponent  as  there  is  in  beating  all  com- 
petitors in  a  fair-and-square  race.  It  may  be  added 
that  the  jockey  who  spoilt  Greek  Fire's  chance  on 
this  occasion  in  such  an  inexcusable  manner  was 
the  merest  amateur  ;  had  he  been  a  professional  or 
a  seasoned  rider,  his  conduct  would  have  disqualified 
him  to  an  absolute  certainty. 

At  Ipswich,  on  May  5,  my  colours  were  not  promi- 
nent ;  but  on  the  17th,  Edensor  won.  The  horse 
originally  belonged  to  the  Duke  of  Hamilton,  who 
was  present,  and  said  he  had  never  seen  the  horse 
looking   better.     He    endeavoured   to    bolt   o£E   the 


182  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

course  in  this  race — the  Tradesmen's  Cup  at  Bungay 
— with  the  evident  idea  of  turning  into  the  stables 
where  he  had  slept  overnight.  But  his  rider  did  not 
see  his  way  to  accommodate  Edensor,  and  instead 
the  horse  won  the  race.  That  was  the  last  race  for 
me  in  1887,  a  trip  to  North  America  in  search  of  other 
varieties  of  sport  being  arranged  shortly  afterwards. 

Edensor  would  have  had  a  great  chance  of  win- 
ning the  Grand  National,  in  my  opinion,  if  he  had 
only  been  entered  for  that  race.  He  was  a  beautiful 
jumper,  and  would  not  have  carried  more  than 
ten  stone  on  his  back  at  Liverpool.  Since  passing 
out  of  Marsh's  hands,  Edensor  had  done  a  good 
deal  of  hunting,  in  our  cramped  Essex  country,  and 
the  music  of  the  hounds  had  probably  made  him 
take  kindly  to  jumping,  We  had  carefully  "  sum- 
mered "  him  on  the  saltings,  and  got  his  legs  as  fine 
as  a  foal's.  Had  he  landed  upside  of  the  leaders  over 
the  last  fence  at  Liverpool,  his  fine  turn  of  speed 
would  have  about  carried  him  home.  When  in 
America  I  wrote  to  have  him  entered  for  the  race  ; 
but  ought  to  have  wired,  for  he  had  been  sold 
before  the  message  was  received.  Marsh,  curiously 
enough,  despaired  of  Edensor  as  a  steeplechaser, 
and  decided  that  he  was  only  fitted  for  hurdle 
racing. 

When  in  the  winter  of  1886  Mr.  Stanley's  African 
expedition  was  being  arranged,  I  had  every  inten- 
tion, could  it  be  managed,  of  forming  one  of  the 
party.  We  met  and  talked  the  matter  over.  Mr. 
Stanley's  staff,  however,  was  complete  at  the  time, 
and  moreover,  whilst  good  enough  to  say  that  I  was 
well  fitted  to  be  one  of  his  party  in  nearly  all  respects, 


MORE   STEEPLECHASING  183 

he  pointed  out,  what  was  perfectly  true,  that  want 
of  Central  African  experience  was  a  drawback.  The 
interview  therefore  did  not  promise  good  results,  nor 
was  a  second  one  with  him  and  Sir  Francis  de  Winton, 
a  few  days  later,  more  productive.  What  I  ought 
to  have  done  was  to  have  gone  to  the  point  of  de- 
barkation, and  there  in  all  probability  Mr.  Stanley 
would  have  accepted  me  as  a  member  of  his  party. 
Friends  who  were  aware  of  the  offer  I  made  to  Mr. 
Stanley  of  my  services,  have  on  more  than  one 
occasion  observed  that  it  was  very  fortunate  it  came 
to  nothing,  as  otherwise  there  would  have  been  an 
ugly  split  between  us,  such  as  naturally  occurred 
in  regard  to  Major  Barttelot.  But  my  interview 
with  Mr.  Stanley  was  of  a  most  friendly  character  ; 
nor  is  there  the  slightest  reason  in  my  mind  to  sup- 
pose that  we  should  of  necessity  have  fallen  out  had 
my  offer  been  accepted.  Discipline  should  always 
be  one  of  the  chief  laws  of  life  to  every  man  who  has 
been  in  the  Service  ;  so  much  may  be  safely  said 
without  making  the  least  comment  on  the  unhappy 
quarrel  which  threw  a  dark  cloud  over  this  African 
expedition  of  Mr.  Stanley's. 

Even  more  keenly  have  I  had  cause  to  regret 
my  lot  in  not  being  able  to  take  part  as  a  volunteer 
in  several  of  our  little  African  wars.  Unfortu- 
nately the  terms  of  my  father's  will  compelled  me  to 
insure  my  life  heavily  about  the  time  of  my  marriage, 
and  the  insurance  companies,  as  is  well  known, 
are  enabled  to  put  on  a  very  high  war  premium. 
This  shut  me  out  of  the  various  campaigns  in  South 
and  North  Africa  during  the  last  twenty-five  years 
or  so.     In  particular  I  was  very  keen  to  go  to  the 


184  FOETY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

Cape  as  a  volunteer  at  the  time  of  Isandula  ;  but 
it  was  clearly  intimated  to  me  that  I  should  be 
penalized  by  a  very  heavy  and  additional  premium. 
I  had  therefore  to  stay  at  home,  and  fret  over  my 
baulked  projects. 


CHAPTER   VII 

A  TEIP  TO   FLORIDA 

In  these  days  of  universal  travel  it  is  a  difficult 
matter  to  strike  what  may  be  termed  new  ground. 
Indeed,  it  is  almost  impossible,  and  the  nearest 
approach  one  can  make  to  novelty  is  to  pick  out  the 
spots  least  frequented  by  those  two  ubiquitous  speci- 
mens of  humanity,  the  sportsman  and  the  British 
tourist.  Bearing  this  in  mind,  and  having  received 
an  invitation  from  an  ex-sailor,  I  determined  on  a 
short  tour  through  Florida,   with  Cuba  to  follow. 

So  having  written  to  S to  meet  me  at  Douglass's 

Tropical  Hotel  at  Kissimmee,  set  about  collecting 
my  impedimenta,  and  engaged  a  berth  by  the 
Cunard  boat  from  Liverpool  to  New  York.  Of 
course  there  are  many  ways  of  getting  to  the  Stars 
and  Stripes,  and  the  traveller  can  have  his  choice  of 
which  line  he  will  elect  to  travel  by.  Mine  fell  on 
the  Cunarder,  and  there  was  no  cause  to  repent  it ; 
everything  on  board  was  most  comfortable,  and 
with  fine  weather  we  made  a  rapid  passage,  arriving  at 
Sandy  Hook  almost  before  we  had  well  cleared  the 
Mersey — at  least  so  it  seemed. 

From  New  York  there  is  again  a  choice  of  routes. 

185 


186  FOETY  YEAES  OF  A  SPOETSMAN'S  LIFE 

You  can  take  the  luxurious  vestibule  train  or  the 
steamer  to  Jacksonville,  where  it  will  not  be  amiss 
to  spend  a  couple  of  days  at  St.  Augustine,  in  the 
palatial  hotel.  Ponce  de  Leon,  built  after  the  style 
of  old  Moorish  architecture.  From  Jacksonville 
you  will  take  the  train  to  Kissimmee  ;  or,  better 
still  perhaps,  the  steamer  down  St.  John's  Eiver  to 
Sandford,  and  then  on  by  rail. 

Arrived  at  Kissimmee,  Mr.  Douglass  will,  assum- 
ing that  he  is  still  in  the  land  of  the  living,  make  you 
thoroughly  comfortable  in  the  Tropical  Hotel  at  an 
exceedingly  moderate  outlay,  and  will  put  you  in 
the  way  of  obtaining  either  a  steamer  or  boat  to  the 
best  sporting  ground,  which  is  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Fort  Bassenger  and  Lake  Arbuckle. 

On  arrival  at  Kissimmee,  I  found  all  arrangements 

had  been  made  by  S ,  who  had  also  got  punt 

and  everything  in  readiness  so  that  there  was 
nothing  for  me  to  do  but  overhaul  the  shooting-irons 
and  kit,  and  prepare  for  a  start.  While  on  the 
subject  of  shooting-kits,  it  may  be  mentioned  there 
is  no  necessity  to  bring  out  cartridges,  as  a  gun- 
maker  in  Kissimmee,  called  Farringdon,  can  supply 
every  requisite  ;  and,  what  is  more,  is  particularly 
careful  in  loading.  When  ordering  cartridges  I 
found  American  wood  powder  by  far  the  best,  and 
can  recommend  it  strongly.  Flannel  is  the  best 
material  for  clothing,  and  a  stock  of  quinine  should 
not  be  forgotten.     These,  however,  are  details. 

On  Tuesday,  December  13,  we  left  St.  Elmo  at 
7.15  a.m.,  arrived  at  the  south  end  of  Lake  Tokho- 
pekaliga  at  1  p.m.,  and  passing  quickly  through 
the  canal  into  Lake  Cypress,  and  on  through  a  second 


A   TRIP    TO    FLORIDA  187 

canal,  came  into  Lake  Hatchinelia,  just  as  daylight 
was  vanishing.  Here  we  were  lucky  enough  to 
hit  off  a  sandbank  studded  with  oak  copse,  and  dry 
wood  being  plentiful,  soon  had  our  camp  fire  under 
way,  and  supper.  The  whif!  of  tobacco,  and  glass  of 
Bourbon  whisky  which  followed  the  evening  meal, 
were  both  mighty  acceptable,  for  we  had  had  nine 
hours'  hard  rowing  under  a  blazing  sun,  and  were 
both  fairly  tired  out.  At  least  I  can  answer  for  it 
that  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  deep  satisfaction  I  curled 
myself  up  in  my  blankets  for  the  night,  and  was 
quickly  lulled  to  sleep  by  a  chorus  of  frogs,  with  the 
occasional  '*  ouf,  ouf  \  "  of  a  somewhat  consumptive 
alligator. 

The  following  morning  we  were  up  betimes,  and 
after  an  early  breakfast  packed  our  boat  and  made 
a  move.  Although  there  was  no  definite  agreement 
made,  I  somehow  drifted  into  the  rowing,  shooting, 

and  timber- felling  department  while  S "  bossed  " 

the  steering,  fishing,  and  cooking  side.  On  arriving 
off  Fort  Gardner  we  came  across  a  party  of  five 
Seminoles  headed  by  Tom  Tiger,  a  fine  stalwart 
Indian,  who  we  gathered  was  likely  to  be  elected 
chief  when  old  Tallahassee  departed  for  the  happy 
hunting  grounds.  Pocahontas,  who  married  an 
Englishman  named  Rolfe,  was  reputed  to  have  be- 
longed to  this  nomad  tribe.  She  was  for  some 
years  in  England,  and  rumour  said  that  she  was  still 
living  in  a  large  cypress  swamp  to  the  south  of 
Lake  Okeechobee,  called  the  Everglades.  If  this 
were  correct,  she  must  have  reached  a  ripe  old 
age,  as  she  is  said  to  have  died  in  England  in 
1617! 


188  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

The  Seminoles,  though  now  friendly,  fought  gal- 
lantly under  Tallahassee  against  the  whites,  and  it 
took  the  American  troops  some  years  before  they 
were  enabled  to  thoroughly  subdue  them.  Whilst 
we  were  palavering  with  Tiger  and  his  followers  a 
moccasin  snake  slipped  off  the  bank  and  commenced 
to  swim  the  river.  With  my  first  barrel  and  a  charge 
of  No.  4  shot  I  only  managed  to  wound  him,  and 
back  he  came  right  at  us.  Luckily  he  was  turned 
white  side  up  at  a  second  attempt,  and  he  floated 
down  the  stream.  The  moccasins  and  rattlesnakes 
are  the  most  numerous  and  deadly  of  the  Florida 
reptiles,  besides  being  exceedingly  pugnacious,  so  it 
was  just  as  well  we  did  not  get  to  close  quarters. 
Having  arranged  with  the  Indians  to  bring  us  some 
skins,  we  continued  our  journey  down  the  river  into 
Lake  Kissimmee,  and  camped  under  a  hummock  on 
a  fine  ridge  of  sand — a  hummock  being  the  local  name 
for  clumps  of  variegated  timber. 

The  next  day,  the  15th,  we  paddled  down  to 
Floridelphia  in  time  for  the  midday  meal,  and  having 
arranged  with  our  guide  to  meet  us  the  following 
day  on  one  of  the  neighbouring  lakes,  returned, 
meaning  to  ascend  the  Tiger  River.  But  missing 
the  entrance  we  were  brought  up  in  the  "  bonnet " 
(waterlilies),  so  had  to  give  it  up  and  make  our 
way  back  to  Floridelphia  by  the  light  of  a  new  moon. 
Early  in  the  morning,  before  daylight,  we  were  forced 
to  shift  our  quarters,  for  a  heavy  sea  got  up,  and 
our  punt  became  none  too  pleasant.  After  break- 
fast, however,  we  took  Louis,  a  "  cracker  "  {i.e.  one 
of  the  local  squatters,  so  dubbed  on  account  of  their 
powers  of   manipulating  the  stock-whip),  as  guide, 


A   TRIP   TO    FLORIDA  189 

and  started  for  Tiger  Creek,  which  we  reached  at  noon, 
and  at  once  commenced  its  ascent,  little  dreaming 
of  the  difficulties  we  should  have  to  surmount,  or 
the  severe  tax  on  our  powers  of  endurance  that  would 
be  required  before  arriving  at  its  source.  A  strong 
current  had  to  be  stemmed,  the  turns  were  both 
numerous  and  sharp,  and  at  times  we  were  forced  to 
use  both  axe  and  saw  where  the  channel  was  choked 
with  willow,  bonnet,  water-lettuce,  flags,  buttonwood, 
and  maiden  cane,  whilst  to  make  matters  extra 
pleasant,  at  the  most  critical  part,  with  a  crack  and 
a  splash,  overboard  I  went,  if  not  "  amidst  the 
sharks  and  whales,"  amidst  the  thousands  of  alli- 
gators and  snakes  which  inhabited  the  adjoining 
swamp.  However,  it  is  a  long  lane  that  has  no  turning, 
and  we  at  last  entered  Tiger  Lake,  and  skirting  its 
eastern  shore,  beached  the  punt  whilst  Louis  went 
ofi  to  a  log-hut  for  a  few  necessaries.  During  the 
time  he  was  away  I  took  the  opportunity  of  re- 
plenishing our  larder,  and  managed  to  bag  half-a- 
dozen  snipe— a  welcome  addition,  but  one  which  very 
nearly  cost  me  my  life,  for  in  struggling  through 
some  flags  to  gather  one  of  my  birds,  my  foot  came 
right  on  the  top  of  a  huge  moccasin,  who  was  coiled 
up  close  to  where  it  fell.  Happily,  he  was  as 
much  frightened  as  myself,  and  dived  out  of  sight 
instantly,  at  which  I  was  very  grateful,  for  my  legs 
were  bare,  and  had  he  bitten  me  it  would  without 
doubt  have  been  fatal.  On  Louis's  return  we  pulled 
round  the  lake  till  near  Rosalie  Creek,  where  we 
camped  after  dark,  and  spent  a  most  unpleasant 
night,  being  much  worried  by  ants,  to  say  nothing 
of  an  aggressive  centipede,  on  which  S nearly 


190  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

put  his  hand.  Saturday,  the  17th,  we  were  up 
before  sunrise,  and  had  a  fruitless  tramp  of  four  hours 
through  the  swamp  after  deer  and  turkey.  Probably 
old  Tallahassee's  hunters  had  been  before  us,  as 
we  saw  plenty  of  signs,  but  beyond  that  nothing. 
The  timber  and  undergrowth  in  the  swamp  were 
very  fine,  consisting  of  three  different  kinds  of  oak, 
black  and  bay  gum,  maple,  ash,  wild  mulberry,  pine, 
palmetta,  and  saw  grass.  After  this  we  shifted  camp, 
and  all  three  took  a  stroll  for  duck  and  snipe — though 
what  Louis  expected  to  kill  with  a  Winchester  rifle, 
which  was  the  weapon  he  selected,  was  only  known 
to  himself.  That  night  we  were  visited  by  one  or 
more  members  of  the  rat  tribe,  who  managed  to  make 
a  tolerable  supper  of  three  courses,  viz.,  one  boot, 
one  sock,  and  one  gaiter. 

Next  morning  we  returned  in  the  teeth  of  a  stiii 
breeze  to  Tiger  Creek,  and  the  steadiness  of  the  punt 
in  a  nasty  choppy  sea  quite  astonished  us.  The 
unfortunate  Louis  proved  himself  a  thorough  lands- 
man, and  kept  on  bemoaning  his  hard  fate,  wishing 
between  the  paroxysms  of  sea-sickness  that  he  was 
once  again  driving  cows.  Once  he  nearly  came  into 
collision  with  a  moccasin  snake  in  some  boimet, 
which  fairly  frightened  him  out  of  his  life,  and  had 
the  desired  effect  of  keeping  him  a  little  quieter. 
On  this  journey  I  did  not  fall  overboard,  but  varied 
the  performance  by  stepping  with  my  naked  foot  on 
to  the  spoon  bait,  and  then,  while  trying  to  extricate 
the  barb,  drove  the  tail  hooks  into  my  other  ankle. 
It  may  be  imagined  after  this  I  was  grateful  to  an 
Indian  who  accepted  the  machine  as  a  present,  and 
who  certainly  rated  it  far  above  its  value.     That 


A    TRIP   TO    FLORIDA  191 

afternoon  we  bid  farewell  to  our  guide,  as  we  dis- 
covered that  his  knowledge  of  cooking  far  exceeded 
that  of  venery,  and  that  his  ability  in  emptying  the 
pot  was  well  in  advance  of  his  powers  of  replenishing 
the  same. 

In  the  evening  we  lit  our  fire  close  to  where  we 
had  previously  camped  in  the  angle  of  two  huge 
branches  of  a  fallen  oak,  and  were  shortly  afterwards 
joined  by  Tom  Tiger  and  his  nephew.  We  then 
proceeded  to  look  for  our  supper,  and  were  fortunate 
in  shooting  a  couple  of  duck,  which  Tom  and  his 
relative  helped  to  devour.  Before  supper  com- 
menced, however,  the  former  gentleman  amused 
himself  by  enshrouding  his  athletic  form  in  my 
Inverness  cape,  and  then  suddenly  remarked — 

"  You  got  yellow  fever  ?  "  some  rumour  of  that 
disease,  which  had  been  raging  in  Tampa,  having 
evidently  reached  his  ears. 

"  No,"  I  replied. 

"  Aha,"  rejoined  Tom  with  pride,  "  I  got  measles," 
and  removing  the  cape  and  opening  the  front  of  his 
hunting  shirt,  he  showed  me  a  plentiful  crop  of  spots. 
"  You  think  me  bad  ?  What  medicine  I  take  ?  " 
he  then  asked.  But  I  was  too  flabbergasted  to  reply, 
for  the  Inverness  was  my  only  rohe  de  nuit,  and  I 
foresaw  that  I  must  either  make  up  my  mind  to  go 
without  it,  and  thereby  contract  a  certain  cold,  or 
else  run  the  chance  of  catching  the  measles  by  wear- 
ing it.  Eventually  the  latter  course  was  adopted, 
happily  without  any  evil  results. 

In  the  middle  of  the  night  I  was  awakened  by  a 
heavy  thud  close  to  my  right  ear,  and  starting  up 
found  that  our  fire  had  undermined  the  branches  of 


192  FOETY  YEAKS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

the  oak,  and  that  one  of  them  had  fallen  with  tre- 
mendous force  within  a  foot  from  my  head  on  to  my 
rug,  a  jagged  branch  driving  it  quite  half  a  yard  into 
the  ground.  Had  it  been  a  few  inches  to  the  left 
it  would  have  converted  me  into  a  jelly.  This  was 
about  the  narrowest  shave  I  ever  had  of  visiting  the 
Great  Unknown,  except  perhaps  once,  when  a  friend 
knocked  over  a  brave  Portuguese  just  as  he  had  got 

his  knife  between  my  shoulder-blades.     S ,  who 

had  coiled  himself  up  in  the  punt  for  the  night,  also 
had  somewhat  broken  rest,  for  in  the  small  hours  he 
suddenly  found  himself  drifting  out  to  sea,  and  had 
a  hard  paddle  to  get  back.  After  breakfast  we 
sculled  to  East  Gardner,  where  for  the  next  few  days 
my  time  was  occupied  in  supplying  our  larder  with 
game    from    the    prairie    and    pine-woods    swamps, 

S having   injured   his   foot,    and   consequently 

being  unable  to  move  far  from  camp.  Leaving  Fort 
Gardner  we   were   taken   in   tow  by   the   Arbuckle 

steamer,  which  landed  S at  St.  Elmo's  wharf 

shortly  after  midnight,  and  myself  at  Kissimmee 
City  about  half-an-hour  later.  Kissimmee,  notwith- 
standing the  high-sounding  title  of  city,  is  nothing 
more  than  a  straggling  village,  whose  morals  are 
looked  after  by  a  mayor  and  two  policemen,  or 
rather  a  marshal  and  his  assistant.  Marshal  Bailly 
was  a  fine  old  Georgian  who,  besides  being  riddled 
with  Northern  bullets  while  serving  under  Lee,  was 
ruined  by  the  abolition  of  slavery  without  compen- 
sation. However,  we  found  him  a  host  in  himself, 
and  the  short  work  he  made  of  a  rowdy  cowboy  or 
a  refractory  nigger  was  beautiful  to  behold.  It 
seemed  to  me  a  pity  we  could  not  hand  over  Trafalgar 


A   TRIP   TO   FLORIDA  193 

Square  to  his  keeping  for  a  short  time  with  the 
same  freedom  of  action  that  is  extended  to  the  con- 
stabulary of  the  Republic.  Here  I  remained  for 
a  short  time  before  going  on  to  Cuba,  feeling  better 
in  health  than  ever  before  in  my  life  ;  and  no  wonderj 
for  camping  out  in  the  fine  climate  of  a  Florida  winter 
is  most  enjoyable,  and  with  a  liberal  commissariat, 
consisting  of  fish,  venison,  and  other  varieties  of  game 
supplied  daily  by  rod  and  gun,  supplemented  by  a 
few  tinned  provisions,  coffee,  flour,  rice,  potatoes, 
hog  and  hominy,  which  we  took  with  us,  together 
with  the  constant  exercise  from  sunrise  to  sunset, 
sometimes  commencing  before  the  former  and  ending 
after  the  latter,  made  one  feel  like  a  new  man.  To 
any  one  who  is  fond  of  sport,  and  is  feeling  a  little 
out  of  sorts,  a  trip  to  Florida  may  be  confidently 
recommended. 

When  in  Havana  on  my  way  home  from  Florida, 
I  not  unnaturally  desired  to  play  some  part,  if 
possible,  in  the  bull-fights  which  take  place  there.  It 
would  have  been  a  pleasant  ending  to  the  excellent 
small  sport  we  had  been  enjoying  in  America.  There 
was  a  demand  for  picadors,  as  a  good  many  men 
employed  in  that  capacity  had  recently  sufiered 
severely  and  fallen  out  of  the  ranks,  but  a  very  in- 
adequate sujDply.  Regarding  this  as  a  good  oppor- 
tunity to  "  cut  in,"  I  offered  my  services  as  picador. 
But  the  bull-fighters,  if  jealous  of  each  other,  were 
even  more  so  of  a  stranger  and  outsider.  They 
traded  on  their  reputation  of  being  the  only  people 
who  could  face  the  bull,  and  they  would  no  doubt 
have  lost  prestige  if  an  outsider  had  been  allowed 
to  act  as  picador,  and  had  proved  at  all  successful  in 

13 


194  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

that  capacity.  Accordingly  they  would  not  hear  of 
my  taking  any  part  in  the  fight,  and  I  was  obliged 
to  go  away  unsatisfied.  No  Englishman  had  ever 
acted  as  picador  over  there,  and  I  had  hoped  to 
establish  a  record  and  precedent. 

This  short  sojourn  in  the  West  Indies  reminded 
me  of  sailoring  days  spent  there  more  than  twenty 
years  before,  and  especially  of  the  shameful  way 
in  which  Governor  Eyre  was  treated  by,  one  regrets 
to  have  to  say,  the  English  Government.  The  con- 
troversy concerning  Eyre  was  reopened  some  years 
ago  in  one  of  the  newspapers,  and  a  member  of  the 
Carlton  Club  wrote  vainly  trying  to  prove  that  the 
leader  and  instigator  of  the  mutiny — which,  had  it 
not  been  effectually  crushed  out  by  the  Governor's 
promptness,  might  have  resulted  in  a  general  butcher- 
ing of  all  the  whites  in  the  island  of  Jamaica — was 
quite  unjustly  hanged.  My  memory  is  pretty  vivid 
in  this  matter,  as  we  were  almost  in  the  midst  of 
the  mutiny,  and  received  the  most  accurate  account 
of  all  that  took  place.  About  the  guilt  of  the  ring- 
leader there  can  be  no  possible  shadow  of  doubt  in 
the  mind  of  people  really  conversant  with  the  affair  ; 
though  it  may  be  admitted  that  there  was  a  slight, 
or  what  may  be  called  a  technical,  irregularity  in 
the  way  he  was  captured  and  executed.  The  Mutiny 
Act  was  not  operative  over  the  whole  of  the  island, 
and  the  leader  of  the  rebellion  was  seized  just  beyond 
the  line  where  the  Act  ended.  It  was  somewhat 
like  shooting  a  burglar  a  yard  outside  your  house, 
instead  of  actually  within  it.  Eyre  probably  saved 
the  whites  from  a  wholesale  slaughter,  and  in  reward 
he  was  dismissed,  and,  what  was  even  worse,  never 


A   TRIP   TO   FLORIDA  195 

given  a  post  elsewhere.  The  whole  thing  was  a 
shocking  miscarriage  of  justice.  Eyre  was  on  one 
or  two  occasions  on  board  our  ship  to  consult  the 
Admiral,  and  I  recollect  well  enough  taking  him 
ashore  in  the  boat  in  my  charge. 

Though  prevented  from  taking  an  active  part  in 
the  bull-fights  in  Havana,  I  saw  several  exhibitions 
there,  and  later  in  Portugal.  To  many  English 
people,  even  sporting  people,  the  idea  of  going  to  a 
bull-fight  as  a  spectator  is  a  repellant  one.  But  we 
ought  to  clear  our  minds  of  cant  in  discussing  the 
frequently  agitated  question  of  cruelty  in  sport.  After 
seeing  a  good  many  bull-fights,  and  talking  with 
people  who  are  well  versed  in  the  matter,  my  con- 
clusion is  that  it  entails  far  less  cruelty  than  several 
sports  which  are  in  high  favour  in  this  country.  Take 
battue  shooting,  for  instance.  I  am  not  going  to 
preach  against  it,  by  any  means — though  I  do  con- 
sider it  a  somewhat  luxurious  form  of  sport,  and  in- 
finitely prefer  to  make  a  small  mixed  bag  over  a  good 
dog — but  it  is  idle  to  gainsay  the  fact  that  these 
monster  days  amongst  feathered  game  mean  a  great 
deal  of  acute  suffering.  However  deadly  the  shots, 
a  percentage  of  the  birds  get  wounded,  and  creep 
away  out  of  reach  of  beaters  and  game-gatherers  to 
endure  much  prolonged  suffering. 

Now  in  bull-fighting  the  pain  endured  by  the 
animals  is  probably  small  compared  to  that  endured 
by  the  wounded  pheasants  and  hares.  There  is  no 
question  whatever  about  the  bull  itself  thoroughly 
enjoying  the  sport.  The  pheasant  does  not  want 
to  be  shot  at,  nor  the  fox  to  be  hunted,  but  the  bull 
does  want  to  fight.     It  is  the  beast's  nature.    He 


196  FOKTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

is  pricked  a  good  deal,  no  doubt,  and  rendered  furious 
in  consequence  ;  but  what  is  his  pain  in  comparison 
to  that  of  a  pheasant  with  a  broken  wing  or  leg  ? 
Next  to  nothing.  Then  as  to  the  horses  :  they  are, 
it  is  true,  injured,  and  finally  killed.  I  am  the  last 
in  the  world  to  view  with  approval  brutality  towards 
horses,  and  should  not  fail  to  intervene  where  possible 
and  practicable.  But  the  lot  of  the  horses  used  for 
bull-fighting  purposes  is  infinitely  preferable  to  the 
lot  of  the  wretched  animals  that  are  doomed  to  drag 
the  ordinary  Spanish  diligence.  Two  blacks  do  not 
make  a  white,  but  if  you  approve  on  behalf  of  the 
horses  of  doing  away  with  bull-fighting  in  Spain, 
you  ought  to  approve  even  more  of  reforming  the 
existing  state  of  things  in  regard  to  the  Spanish 
diligence. 

The  cruelty  of  the  drivers  is  well-nigh  incredible. 
It  might  almost  disgust  some  of  the  worst  drivers 
of  hansoms  in  London.  The  Jehu  of  the  diligence 
indeed  knows  no  mercy,  and  many  who  have 
travelled  in  Spain  by  road  must  have  noted  the  fact 
that  when  opportunity  ofiers  he  will  usually  prod 
the  wretched  animals  on  a  sore  place.  The  stick 
with  which  he  belabours  his  horses  is  of  a  very  hard 
wood,  and  used  with  no  little  force.  In  a  single  stage 
a  horse  can,  and  often  does,  sufier  more  pain  than 
is  likely  to  result  from  the  wounds  received  from  a 
bull's  horn  in  the  arena. 

No  doubt  this  view  of  bull-fighting  is  a  little  out 
of  the  common.  Bagot  and  Churston,  my  shooting 
and  yachting  companions  in  the  Mediterranean, 
came  to  a  very  difierent  opinion  after  they  had  seen 
a  fight  at  Malaga,  which,  by  the  way,  certainly  does 


A    TRIP   TO   FLORIDA  197 

appear  to  have  been  a  very  sanguinary  affair  ;  but, 
depend  upon  it,  there  are  plenty  of  people  who,  if 
they  went  out  shooting  and  saw  hares  and  pheasants 
suffer,  would  be  quite  as  much  upset  by  the  sight  as 
by  an  ordinary  bull-fight.  Bull-fighting  as  practised 
in  Portugal  is  certainly  in  some  respects  a  more 
artistic  performance  than  that  of  Spain.  The  horses 
used  are  much  finer,  and  altogether  too  good  to  be 
exposed  to  the  certainty  of  injury  which  the  Spanish 
animals  incur.  The  riding  too  in  these  Portuguese 
performances  is  very  pretty.  Bagot  has  given  a 
good  description  of  a  Lisbon  fight  in  his  little  book 
on  Shooting  and  Yachting  in  the  Mediterranean. 

"  After  the  usual  preliminaries,  and  march  past," 
he  writes,  "  the  ring  was  cleared,  and  in  came  El 
Toro  with  padded  horns  and  a  piece  of  board  strapped 
across  his  forehead.  Then  appeared  two  Portu- 
guese noblemen  riding  their  own  horses  (rare  good- 
looking  nags,  too),  and  the  fun  commenced,  the 
object  of  each  rider  being  to  plant  a  small  banderillo, 
in  the  shape  of  a  rosette,  in  the  bull's  neck,  and  get 
away  before  the  bull  knocked  himself  and  horse  head 
over  heels.  There  was  some  very  pretty  play  and 
good  riding,  and  the  entertainments  was  varied  with 
other  feats,  such  as  riding  the  bull  bare-backed, 
getting  into  a  barrel,  and  letting  the  animal  roll  it 
about  the  ring,  vainly  trying  to  get  at  the  man 
inside,  who,  having  made  the  bull  perfectly  furious, 
would  wait  his  opportunity,  and  jumping  out  run 
like  a  hare  for  the  barrier  with  Toro  in  hot  pursuit. 
One  individual  was  just  a  moment  too  late,  and  the 
bull  caught  him  before  he  could  get  over,  and  hove 
him  fairly  into  the  middle  of  the  spectators  follow- 


198  FOKTY  YEAKS  OF  A  SPOETSMAN'S  LIFE 

ing  himself  clean  over  the  barrier  amid  shouts  of 
laughter.  However,  nothing  worse  than  a  fevs^  bruises 
was  the  result,  and  when  we  got  back  on  board  we 
all  agreed  we  had  spent  a  very  pleasant  evening, 
and  that  Lisbon  bull-fighting  is  worth  ten  of  the 
Spanish  performances." 

In  that  excellent  book,  Wild  Spain,  Messrs.  Chap- 
man and  Back  give  a  glowing  picture  of  the  com- 
mencement of  a  Spanish  bull-fight,  which  will  help 
to  show  even  the  most  prejudiced  that  there  is  some- 
thing in  "  tauromachia  "  other  than  brutality. 
"  What  a  spectacle,"  write  these  authors,  "  is  pre- 
sented by  the  Plaza  at  this  moment !  One  without 
parallel  in  the  modern  world.  The  vast  amphitheatre, 
crowded  to  the  last  seat  in  every  box  and  tier,  is 
held  for  some  moments  in  breathless  suspense : 
above,  a  glorious  canopy  of  an  Andalucian  summer 
sky  :  belovr,  on  the  yellow  arena,  rushes  forth  the 
bull  fresh  from  his  distant  prairie,  amazed  yet  un- 
daunted by  the  unwonted  sight  and  the  bewildering 
blaze  of  colour  which  surrounds  him.  For  one  brief 
moment  the  vast  mass  of  excited  humanity  sits  spell- 
bound :  the  clangour  of  myriads  is  stilled.  Then 
the  pent-up  cry  bursts  forth  in  frantic  volumes,  for 
the  gleaming  horns  have  done  their  work,  and  Buen 
toro !  buen  tow !  rings  from  twice  ten  thousand 
throats." 

The  performances  which  I  witnessed  at  Havana, 
and  tried  to  take  part  in  myself,  were  only  fairly 
good.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  carnage  without 
any  superlative  display  of  skill.  The  best  men,  for 
instance,  Espartero,  who  came  by  sucii  a  tragic  end 
in  the  arena  at  Madrid  not  a  great  while  ago,  or 


A   TRIP   TO   FLORIDA  199 

Xerezano  (that  is,  a  man  from  Xeres),  would  not  find 
it  worth  their  while  to  settle  in  Havana,  when  they 
can  make  an  income  far  exceeding  that  of  the  best- 
salaried  Spanish  minister  by  staying  at  home.  A  bull- 
fighter's income  in  Spain  does  not  compare  ill  with 
that  of  a  first-class  jockey  on  the  flat  in  England. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  a  great  number  of  the 
habitues  at  the  Spanish  bull-fights  are  of  a  decidedly 
brutal  turn  of  mind.  As  a  very  prominent  and 
successful  bull-fighter  remarked,  they  are  never  con- 
tent unless  the  most  difficult  and  most  dangerous 
feats  a  man  can  accomplish  in  the  arena  are  con- 
stantly being  repeated.  If  an  espada,  having 
achieved  a  feat  requiring  a  superlative  display  of 
skill  and  courage,  does  not  do  the  same  thing  again 
when  he  next  enters  the  arena,  the  audience  feel 
aggrieved  ;  whilst,  if  he  continues  to  attempt  the 
same  feat,  he  is  almost  bound  in  the  end  to  come  by 
his  death  in  the  arena.  Having  won  a  great  repu- 
tation, the  bull-fighter  cannot  afford  to  rest  on  his 
laurels.  He  must  preserve  it  by  constantly  re- 
delighting  his  admirers  with  his  most  daring  and 
clever  devices,  otherwise  he  will  soon  fall  in  the 
popular  estimation. 

To  regard  the  Spanish  bull-fight  as  a  merely  brutal 
slaughter,  without  any  redeeming  feature,  is  to  show 
oneself  ignorant  of  the  sport,  and  equally  so  of  the 
history  and  traditions  of  this  ancient  country.  It 
is  idle  to  deny  that  the  office  of  matador  or  espada, 
as  well  as  that,  in  a  lesser  degree,  of  picador,  demand 
the  exercise  of  skill  of  the  highest  order,  besides 
bravery  and  perfect  coolness.  No  Englishman,  who 
is  accustomed  to  think  highly  of  such  qualities,  can 


200  FOKTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN^S  LIFE 

see  a  first-class  matador  overcome  a  very  active  and 
savage  bull  in  the  arena  without  a  strong  feeling  of 
admiration.    A  matador  carries  his  life  in  his  hand, 
with  a  vengeance,  when,  single-handed  and  on  foot, 
he  challenges  to  mortal  combat  an  infuriated  bull. 
Should  his  courage,  or  his  eye,  or  his  feet  fail  him  at 
the  supreme  moment,  it  is  all  over.     Mr.  F.  C.  Selous 
once  related  a  stirring  adventure  he  had  had  with 
a  wounded  lion.     The  animal,  mad  with  pain  and 
anger,  came  rushing  upon  him  with  the  evident  in- 
tention of  exacting  a  deadly  vengeance.     Had  he 
turned  and  fled,  or  lost  his  nerve  and  resource  in  any 
degree,  probably  nothing  could  have  saved  him.     But 
he  stood  perfectly  still,  and  merely  yelled  for  the  dogs 
to  be  let  loose.     His  boldness  caused  the  red-hot 
courage  of  the  lion  to  cool,  and  the  brute  turned 
tail.     There  were  cheers  when   Mr.   Selous  reached 
this  point  in  his  story.     Englishmen  cannot  restrain 
a  feelmg  of  generous  admiration  for  conduct  of  this 
kind,  and  they  never  will.     Conceive,    then,    what 
feelings    must    animate    thousands    of    susceptible 
Spaniards,  when  they  see  one  of  the  popular  favour- 
ites perform  some  feat  in  the  arena  that  requires  an 
amount  of  bravery  at  least  equal  to  that  needed  by 
a  lion-hunter,  and  infinitely  greater  skill.     The  most 
exciting  of  all  sports  are  those  in  which  the  human 
element  plays  the  chief  part,  and  in  which  the  greatest 
pluck  and  resource  are  called  for.     Nothing  in  ancient 
or   modern   times,   except   perhaps   the   exhibitions 
of  the  Roman  gladiators,  has  ever  come  near  a  first- 
class  Spanish  bull-fight  in  this  respect. 

Then  again,  people  who  are  ready  to  stigmatize 
the  Spaniards  as  utterly  brutal  because  they  love 


A   TRIP   TO   FLORIDA  201 

the  bull-fight,  have  not  perhaps  considered  how  in- 
extricably bound  up  with  the  ancient  traditions  and 
history  of  the  country  is  the  art  of  "  tauromachia." 
We  often  talk  about  horse-racing  as  a  national  in- 
stitution in  England,  and  it  no  doubt  is  so.  Com- 
pared, however,  wdth  the  bull-fight,  it  is,  after  all, 
the  merest  mushroom  growth.  Its  traditions  are 
great,  and  it  has  numbered  amongst  its  ardent  sup- 
porters not  only  princes  of  the  royal  blood,  but 
statesmen  of  the  highest  prominence  and  popularity. 
But  for  centuries  the  chief  performers  in  the  Spanish 
bull-fights  were  many  of  the  foremost  noblemen  and 
grandees  in  the  country.  It  used  indeed  to  be 
part  of  the  "  liberal  education  "  of  a  Spaniard  of 
distinction  to  have  graduated  in  "  tauromachia." 
Charles  I.,  grandson  of  Isabel,  killed  a  bull  in  fair 
fight  in  the  arena  in  his  day. 

When  the  Bourbons  succeeded  to  the  throne  of 
Spain,  bull-fighting  gradually  went  out  of  fashion 
amongst  the  Spanish  nobility,  that  is  so  far  as  the 
taking  any  personal  part  therein  as  matador  or 
picador  was  concerned.  This  was  not  because  the 
Bourbons  were  shocked  at  the  custom,  but  rather 
by  reason  of  their  effeminate  character.  They 
**  Frenchified  "  the  Spanish  nobility  in  this  and  other 
provinces.  But  even  the  secession  of  the  nobles  and 
grandees  from  the  arena  could  not  lessen  the  popu- 
larity of  the  bull-fight.  There  arose  a  class  of  pro- 
fessional matadors  or  espadas  who  took  their  place, 
and  have  ably  filled  it  since.  To  judge  by  the  incomes 
these  men  earn,  and  the  enormous  audiences  that 
crowd  to  the  various  arenas  to  witness  first-class 
performances^   bull-fighting   has   quite   as   strong   a 


202  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

hold  on  the  afcections  of  the  people  to-day  as  it  has 
had  at  any  previous  period  in  the  history  of  Spain. 

One  more  word  concerning  the  charge  of  brutality 
which  is  brought  against  the  Spanish  bull-fight,  and 
I  have  done.  To  those  who  do  not  even  admit  that 
in  the  toreo  there  is  frequently  to  be  seen  what  has 
been  well  described  as  "an  unrivalled  exhibition  of 
human  skill,  nerve,  and  power,"  it  is  no  use  appeal- 
ing. But  the  question  may  be  asked  of  those  who 
do  admit  that  great  skill  and  pluck  are  shown  by  the 
best  espadas,  whether  pain  inflicted  on  the  brute 
creation  under  these  circumstances  is  not,  at  any 
rate,  more  excusable  than  pain  inflicted  where  there 
is  no  such  exhibition.  There  is  surely  nothing  in  the 
nature  of  an  "  unrivalled  exhibition  of  human  skill '' 
in  potting  pheasants,  even  if  they  are  "  rocketing  '' 
birds.  Moreover  a  wounded  pheasant,  in  all  proba- 
bility, suffers  more  pain,  or,  at  any  rate,  usually 
suffers  it  much  longer,  than  a  horse  in  the 
Spanish  bull-ring.  AVe  may  feel  for  the  horse  more 
because  we  esteem  it  as  a  much  better  and  more 
intelligent  creature  than  the  bird  ;  then,  too,  the 
size  of  the  creature  injured  has  a  great  deal  to  do 
with  the  size  of  our  grief.  We  forget  how  "  the  poor 
beetle,  which  we  tread  upon,  in  corporal  substance 
feels  a  pang  as  great  as  when  a  giant  dies." 

Before  arriving  home  I  stayed  both  in  Spain  and 
Portugal.  Whilst  at  Madrid,  an  attempt  was  made 
to  get  up  a  little  boxing  match,  in  which  I  was  to 
play  the  part  of  a  principal.  The  fact  was  the  chief 
picador,  or  the  man  who  in  Portugal  answers  to  the 
picador,  was  rather  a  bully,  and  had  on  several  occa- 
sions knocked  about  the  local  police  and  other  people 


A   TRIP    TO    FLORIDA  203 

into  the  bargain.  So  there  was  a  desire  to  enlist 
some  one  who  would  "  take  it  out  "  of  him.  I  was 
urged  to  take  on  this  bullying  bull-fighter,  and  pro- 
fessed my  willingness  to  give,  or  receive,  a  hiding. 
But  it  came  to  nothing,  as  the  man  would  not  be 
induced  to  risk  his  big  local  reputation  as  a  pugilist. 

The  60th  was  at  Gibraltar  at  this  time,  and  I  accord- 
ingly stayed  there  a  while  on  my  return  home,  and 
did  some  fox-hunting  with  the  Calpe  Hounds.  It 
is  rather  a  poor  substitute  for  hunting  with  English 
packs.  We  were  not  allowed  to  gallop  over  the 
cultivated  ground,  and  the  "  going,"  where  one 
could  ride,  was  of  a  dreadful  character,  the  ground 
being  mostly  rocks.  English  horses  could  not  stand 
it,  but  the  country-breds  which  were  used  were 
certainly  a  very  clever  and  useful  breed. 

I  left  Spain  on  January  31,  1888,  arrived  at  Ply- 
mouth on  February  4,  and  after  a  day  or  two  in  town 
to  see  what  there  was  to  be  seen  after  my  long  stay 
abroad,  returned  home,  and  recommenced  fox- 
hunting. Frost  militated  against  steeplechasing, 
so  there  was  no  sport  for  me  to  speak  of  till  the 
Chelmsford  meeting  on  March  15,  1888,  when  I  got 
home  first  in  the  Galleywood  Steeplechase  on  Brown 
Tommy — my  first  win  for  a  long  while  past.  De- 
scending the  hill,  we  had  to  pull  up  and  trot,  so  deep 
and  sticky  had  the  Derby  digger  made  the  stiff  clay. 
In  the  ascent  of  the  hill,  the  three  leading  horses 
were  rolling  from  distress — a  terribly  severe  finish 
that !  Brown  Tommy  was  a  tcn-to-one  chance. 
The  Toad,  ridden  by  Mr.  Tippler,  led  up  the  ploughed 
fields  closely  accompanied  by  the  favourite.  Sir 
Harry  Selwin-Ibbetson's  Burnouse,  but  soon  after 


204  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

turning  into  the  straight  run  in,  Brown  Tommy 
came  to  the  front,  and  won  by  a  little  over  a 
length. 

In  my  next  steeplechase  I  again  started  the  out- 
sider of  the  party,  this  time  on  Imogene.  It  was 
March  27,  and  a  cruel  day  too  for  steeplechasing.  A 
perfectly  blinding  snowstorm  swept  over  the  course, 
and  was  twice  straight  in  our  faces,  so  that  we  could 
not  see  our  next  fence  till  close  up  to  it.  This  was 
the  Solent  Maiden  Hunters'  Steeplechase  at  the 
Grange  Club  meeting.  Imogene  was  trained  at 
Arthur  Yates's  stables,  at  Bishops  Sutton.  There 
were  two  good  jockeys  in  that  race,  Escott  and 
Dollery,  but  they  certainly  rode  under  great  disad- 
vantages. Half-a-mile  from  home  Imogene  came 
out  full  of  running,  and  heading  the  favourite,  Cope 
(with  Dollery  up)  won  easily.  Didn't  the  bookies 
cheer  as  she  came  in  !  Imogene  had  probably  not 
been  backed  at  all,  as  it  was  generally  understood 
that  Cope,  which  had  been  backed  for  a  lot  of  money 
at  Sandown,  and  was  trained  in  the  same  stable,  was 
much  the  better. 

On  the  same  day  I  once  more  started  at  ten  to  one, 
ridmg  Spangle  in  the  Alverstoke  Selling  Hunters' 
Flat  Race.  I  had  Spangle  on  racing  terms.  He 
could  only  get  placed  second,  so  my  spell  of  good 
luck  with  rank  outsiders  was  broken.  The  race  was 
won  by  Sir  I.  Duke's  Passing  Shower,  which  started 
at  something  like  three  to  one  on — at  all  events  a  hot 
favourite.  There  was  chasing  again  next  day  at 
Winchester,  in  which  I  scored  nothing,  Imogene 
being  very  sore  after  her  previous  exertions  ;  and 
this  ended  my  little  Hampshire  riding  expedition, 


A   TRIP   TO   FLORIDA  205 

with  the  exception  of  a  couple  of  days'  sport  next 
month  in  the  Isle  of  Wight.  There  were  the  Castle 
Club  races  on  one  day,  and  the  Isle  of  Wight  chases 
on  another.  Spangle  and  another  were  schooled 
and  sent  down  for  those  events,  but  without  any 
good  result. 

Spangle,  however,  won  the  Tradesmen's  Plate  a 
week  later  at  the  Bungay  Steeplechases.  It  was 
rather  a  good  race  that.  Kelvin,  the  favourite, 
ridden  by  Mr.  C.  Thompson,  made  a  desperate  bid 
for  victory,  and  once  in  the  straight — Spangle  having 
worked  to  the  front  after  blundering  at  one  fence — 
we  had  an  exciting  race  neck-and-neck  almost  up  to 
the  post :  won  by  half  a  length.  Spangle  was  dis- 
qualified a  long  while  afterwards,  as  it  turned  out 
that  he  was  in  the  flat-race  forfeit  list. 

To  fall  twice  in  a  field  of  five  and  yet  win  the  race, 
is  a  thing  one  does  not  expect  to  do  often  in  a  life- 
time. On  May  3,  1888,  I  did  so,  when  riding  Brown 
Tommy  in  the  Essex  and  Suffolk  Hunt  Cup  at  Col- 
chester. Owing  to  recent  floods  the  course  was  in 
a  very  rotten  condition,  and  as  a  consequence  every 
horse  but  one  came  down  !  Five  started,  namely, 
Captain  Hawkshaw's  Lady  Cherry,  ridden  by  owner  ; 
Mr.  Wright's  Patrician,  ridden  by  owner ;  Mr. 
Dunnet's  The  Toad,  ridden  by  Mr.  Percy  Tippler  ; 
Mr.  Charteris'  Countess,  ridden  by  owner  ;  and  Brown 
Tommy.  They  laid  six  to  four  on  the  last-named. 
Countess  alone  kept  up,  but  she  ran  off  the  course. 
Brown  Tommy  won  by  a  distance. 

I  rode  in  all  the  races  but  one  that  day.  In  the 
East  Essex  Hunt  Cup,  won  by  Mr.  Colvin  with 
Cossack,  the  second  favourite.  Zither,  refused  ;    nor 


206  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

could  I  do  anything  in  the  Middlewick  Cup  won  by 
Hochheimer,  which  Mr.  Percy  Tippler  steered  to 
victory.  In  the  Military  Steeplechase,  Cerise,  with 
myself  up,  walked  over.  Four  horses  entered  for 
the  race,  including  my  own ;  Coloony  did  not 
start.  All  the  favourites,  save  Cossack,  the  second 
favourite,  won  that  day. 

The  summer,  autumn,  and  winter  of  1888  were 
spent  between  Essex,  Hampshire,  Portugal,  Spain, 
France,  and  London.  But  there  was  no  riding  to 
speak  of  in  any  of  these  places.  Reference  has  been 
made  in  this  book  to  the  difficulty  of  keeping  oneself 
thoroughly  fit  when  leading  a  London  life.  About 
this  period  I  discovered  a  pleasant  way  of  getting 
exercise,  namely,  sculling  on  the  Serpentine.  It  may 
be  strongly  recommended  to  jockeys,  and,  for  the 
matter  of  that,  to  anybody  who  cares  for  aquatic 
exercise.  You  may  frequently  have  the  Serpentine 
to  yourself  early  in  the  morning,  for  very  few  people 
seem  to  care  for  rowing  and  sculling  there  except 
the  shop-assistants  and  their  lasses  on  Saturday  and 
Sunday  afternoons.  One  other  cross-country  rider 
has  occasionally  sculled  on  the  Serpentine  to  keep 
himself  fit,  namely,  Roddy  Owen  ;  whilst  only  a 
few  hours  before  his  death  I  met  Sir  Robert  Peel  on 
the  banks  in  his  whites,  though  I  cannot  say  whether 
he  was  going  on  the  water.  There  is  also  swimming 
to  be  got  in  the  Serpentine,  or  Long  Water,  as  all  the 
world  knows,  at  certain  hours,  even  in  the  depth 
of  winter.  I  asked  a  friend  to  enter  me  for  the 
contest  held  there  last  Christmas  day,  and  as  I  should 
probably  have  been  made  limit  man  owing  to  age, 
ought  to  have  had  a  good  chance  of  winning.     But 


A   TRIP   TO   FLORIDA  207 

lie  could  not  find  out  about  it  in  time,  and  the  oppor- 
tunity passed. 

Even  those  who  love  neither  bicycle  nor  tricycle 
may  admit  that  wheeling  is  another  excellent  way 
of  keeping  fit  when  in  London  for  any  length  of  time. 
Not  a  few  officers  in  the  Guards  used  to  be  seen 
disporting  themselves  on  *'  safeties,"  and  amongst 
other  ardent  cyclists  was  Lord  Queensberry.  "  Q," 
as  his  intimate  friends  called  him,  once  spun  up  from 
the  Star  and  Garter,  Richmond,  to  his  place  in  town 
in  forty  minutes.  A  punch-ball  used  to  be  one  of 
his  favourite  methods  of  taking  exercise,  and  that, 
again,  if  one  has  a  suitable  room  for  it,  is  a  rare  good 
way  of  keeping  oneself  fit  in  town. 

Friends  often  chaff  me  about  my  habit  of  taking 
exercise  in  all  manner  of  queer  ways,  and  for  going 
out  for  a  walk  or  run  without  a  hat.  Now  Sir 
Thomas  Barrett-Lennard,  of  Belhus  hunters'  fame, 
did  really  take  his  exercise  in  an  uncommon  manner. 
When  he  felt  that  he  was  growing  too  fat,  he  would 
take  off  his  coat  and  waistcoat,  put  them  in  his 
carriage,  and  run  home  briskly  by  the  side  of  the 
horses.  Sir  Thomas  was  so  fond  of  doing  this  kind 
of  thing  at  all  hours,  that  more  than  once  he  was 
chased  by  his  own  keepers,  and  on  one  occasion  all 
but  run  in  by  a  vigilant  policeman,  who  actually 
captured  the  coatless  baronet,  and  was  not  for 
some  time  to  be  persuaded  that  his  doings  were  of 
a  lawful  character. 

Sometimes  I  was  yacht-racing  in  the  orthodox 
fashion  in  the  Solent  (when  I  usually  managed  to 
go  to  sleep  during  what  to  some  appeared  the  excit- 
ing part  of  the  day)  ;    at  others  playing  racquets, 


208  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

a  grand  game  at  which  I  have  usually  managed  to 
hold  my  own,  though  certainly  not  a  "  flier  "  ;  and 
at  others,  again,  turning  up  at  bull-fights  in  the 
Peninsula,  or  races  in  France.  But  in  the  spring  of 
1889  I  addressed  myself  again  to  steeplechasing, 
taking  part  chiefly  in  East  of  England  meetings.  At 
Colchester,  Woodbridge,  and  Ipswich,  I  rode  without 
winning  anything,  and  on  May  2  we  had  our  own 
steeplechases. 

In  the  summer  of  1889  I  tried  to  make  up  for 
my  rather  unsuccessful  chasing  season  in  the  earlier 
part  of  the  year,  by  sport  in  the  water.  I  won  a 
veterans'  swimming  race  in  Essex,  and  on  the  follow- 
ing day  went  to  sea  in  an  open  boat. 

It  has  been  suggested  that  I  may  to  a  certain 
degree  have  inherited  my  love  for,  and  ease  in,  the 
water  from  my  grandfather.  Captain  Augustus  de 
Crespigny  was  known  by  the  sobriquet  of  "  the 
Newfoundland  Dog,"  owing  to  the  number  of  lives 
he  had  saved.  In  those  days  they  did  not  give  away 
medals  for  the  saving  of  life  in  quite  the  lavish  style 
they  do  now.  It  was  then  not  only  a  great  but  a 
rare  distinction  to  gain  the  medal  of  the  Royal 
Humane  Society.  For  instance,  in  one  year  only 
two  men  won  it,  namely,  my  grandfather  and  Richard 
de  Saumarez.  Curiously  enough,  a  de  Crespigny  and 
a  de  Saumarez  were  awarded  the  medal  at  a  much 
later  period.  De  Saumarez,  it  should  be  added,  got 
also  the  Albert  Medal.  He  effected  a  rescue  in  the 
Canton  river  in  the  face  of  great  danger,  there  being 
sharks  all  around  him  as  he  swam. 

On  one  occasion  Augustus  de  Crespigny's  enterprise 
in  saving  life  at  sea  won  him  the  generous  admira- 


A   TRIP   TO   FLORIDA  209 

tion  of  the  Commander  of  the  French  Fleet,  engaged 
with  our  own  at  the  time  of  an  action  of!  Cadiz,  in 
the  year  1810.  Augustus  went  to  the  rescue  of  five 
men,  who  were  in  imminent  danger  of  being  drowned 
owing  to  the  sinking  of  the  Achilles'  barge.  To  ac- 
complish his  purpose  the  rescuer  had  to  pull  under 
the  very  muzzles  of  the  enemy's  guns.  The  French 
Commander  happened  to  be  an  eye-witness  of  the 
incident,  and  was  so  pleased  with  the  conduct  of  my 
ancestor  that  he  at  once  bade  his  men  desist  from 
firing. 

To  the  luxury  and  ease  of  the  orthodox  style  of 
yachting  I  never  could  take  very  kindly,  though 
from  time  to  time  a  little  of  it  has  come  my  way. 
As  practised  at  the  present  day  it  is  altogether  too 
destitute  of  adventuresomeness.  Everything  is  done 
for  one  by  the  crew,  and  as  a  consequence  it  tends 
to  inaction  and  inglorious  ease.  But  going  to  sea 
in  an  open  boat,  or  even  cruising  about  in  a  small 
yacht,  and  doing  the  major  portion  of  the  navigation 
with  one's  own  hands  and  head,  is  a  vastly  different 
matter.  For  the  former  I  have  always  had  a  distinct 
taste,  which  was  not  even  cured  by  an  adventure 
in  1889.  I  had  been  out  in  a  small  boat  from  Ports- 
mouth on  that  day  with  my  wife  and  a  friend.  As 
the  afternoon  advanced  and  it  came  on  to  blow,  I 
put  in  and  landed  them  at  Langston  Harbour,  and 
then  put  out  to  sea  again,  intending  to  get  into 
Portsmouth  that  evening.  But  it  came  on  very 
choppy,  and  as  a  result  I  spent  the  whole  of  the  night 
tacking  about  Spithead,  with  a  dinghy  in  tow,  which 
greatly  increased  my  difficulties.  Of  all  forsaken 
places,  Spithead  at  night  to  a  man  in  an  open  boat, 

14 


210  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

very  hungry,  and  with  nothing  but  a  bit  of  brown 
bread  to  munch,  is  about  the  worst.  I  finally  an- 
chored of!  the  New  Pier  at  daybreak. 

In  June  1889  I  procured  a  ship's  gig,  made  her 
more  or  less  seaworthy,  and  set  out  from  Heybridge 
with  a  man-servant — who  was  much  more  at  home 
with  a  horse  than  in  a  boat — as  crew.  I  managed 
the  navigation  myself,  and  before  Westgate  was 
reached,  we  had  gone  through  a  series  of  interesting 
adventures.  We  ran  ashore  four  times,  carrying 
away  bowsprit,  after-shrouds,  main  and  top-sail 
sheets,  and  splitting  the  mainsail.  The  28-footer, 
however,  which  was  named  the  Star,  held  out  gal- 
lantly, and  after  putting  out  my  man,  to  his  obvious 
relief,  at  Westgate,  and  having  the  Star  repaired  by 
a  coastguardsman,  I  again  went  on  my  watery  way 
rejoicing,  and  bound  for  Portsmouth.  I  was  out 
by  night  as  well  as  day,  and  before  reaching  her 
destination  the  poor  Star  was  little  better  than  a 
wreck.  At  Shoreham  my  wife  came  aboard,  and 
went  on  with  me  to  Portsmouth,  though  the  accom- 
modation on  the  boat  was  not  very  tempting  for 
ladies. 

Another  time  my  son  and  I  successfully  crossed 
the  Channel  from  Folkestone  to  Boulogne  in  half  a 
gale  in  a  small  boat,  though  it  seemed  once  or  twice 
as  though  we  must  get  capsized.  My  father,  by  the 
way,  made  rather  a  famous  passage  across  the 
Atlantic  in  a  yacht  of  ninety  tons,  called  the  Kate. 
He  was  in  the  company  of  Sir  S.  Clarke,  and  the  trip 
was  talked  and  written  of  a  good  deal,  because  the 
Kate  was  the  smallest  yacht  which  had  up  to  that 
time  crossed  the  Atlantic.     The  Kate  still  exists,  and 


A    TRIP   TO   FLORIDA  211 

is  worked  at  the  present  time  as  a  fruit-vessel — 
rather  a  come-down. 

At  one  time  during  the  Star  trip  I  came  to  the 
conclusion,  knowing  the  coast  pretty  well,  that  we 
must  be  hard  by  the  Reculvers,  where  there  are  some 
rocks,  so  trusted  my  man  with  the  helm,  telling  him 
to  steer  whilst  I  examined  the  chart.  It  was  night- 
time, and  the  work  of  examining  the  chart  was  not 
easy.  After  a  few  minutes'  searching  I  became 
aware  that  we  were  boxing  the  compass,  so  wild  was 
the  steering.  I  then  saw  that  it  was  perfectly  hope- 
less leaving  my  companion  to  the  helm  even  for  the 
shortest  time,  and  resumed  it  myself,  remarking 
cheerfully,  "  Well,  we'll  chance  it :  I  can  swim  all 
right  myself."  We  escaped  the  rocks,  perhaps 
more  by  good  luck  than  good  judgment.  My  com- 
panion, when  safely  ashore,  let  it  be  understood  that 
he  was  very  glad  he  had  been  once  to  sea  in  an  open 
boat,  as  it  was  a  thing  to  have  done,  but  vowed 
that  he  had  no  intention  of  ever  trying  it  again.  Con- 
sidering that  he  could  not  swim  a  stroke,  and  that 
on  the  first  day  we  began  by  splitting  our  mainsail, 
it  was  not  altogether  to  be  wondered  at  that  he 
resolved  in  future  to  stick  to  terra  firma.  Had  he 
accompanied  me  the  whole  way  to  Southsea,  the 
last  state  of  that  man  would  probably  have  been 
worse  than  the  first. 

After  leaving  Ramsgate  at  three  in  the  morning, 
I  was  for  twenty  hours  at  the  helm.  At  length,  at 
Eastbourne,  sleep  claimed  me  for  its  own,  and  I 
dozed  off,  but  woke  presently  to  find  myself  half 
overboard. 

A  rather  eventful  trip  was  that  in  a  little  half- 


212  FOETY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

decked  craft  called  the  B'nita,  which  a  friend  was  so 
good  as  to  lend.  My  companion  in  this  case  was, 
however,  a  man  who  well  understood  navigation, 
so  that  the  entire  burden  did  not  fall  On  my  own 
shoulders.  We  set  sail  from  Southampton  in  the 
middle  of  May  1890,  our  destination  being  Plymouth. 
Starting  at  about  ten  a.m.  we  were  caught  in  a  storm 
of  wind  and  furious  rain  in  the  afternoon,  and  had 
to  put  into  Christchurch  as  best  we  could  at  five 
o'clock.  It  blew  W.S.W.  so  hard  next  day  that  it 
was  not  possible  to  leave  till  the  morning  after.  It 
was  blowing  very  hard  again  when  we  reached  St. 
Albans  Head,  where  we  had  to  drift  through  stern 
foremost.  Ultimately  we  got  into  a  harbour,  which 
neither  of  us  could  at  first  recognize.  It  turned  out 
to  be  Torbay. 

The  wind,  which  was  blowing  quite  a  hurricane 
in  the  night,  played  havoc  with  the  little  craft.  By 
1.30  a.m.  it  had  carried  away  bowsprit  and  top-mast. 
I  was  lying  down  asleep  for  awhile  when  this  wreck- 
age was  going  on,  but  was  roughly  awakened  by  a 
broken  spar,  which  threatened  to  knock  a  hole  in 
the  boat.  We  then  had  to  clear  away  the  ruined 
gear  and  get  inside  the  breakwater.  But  this  was 
about  the  toughest,  and  not  the  least  risky,  job  of 
the  kind  which  I  have  ever  experienced  in  a  small 
boat.  After  a  struggle,  however,  we  managed  to 
get  inside,  and  were  then  all  right.  It  had  taken 
about  three-quarters  of  an  hour  to  get  a  matter  of 
two  hundred  yards,  or  thereabouts,  so  strong  was 
the  wind.  Shortly  after  daylight  we  were  at  length 
able  to  land.  The  poor  B'nita  looked  a  perfect  wreck — 
so  much  so  that  it  is  questionable  whether  her  owner 


A    TKIP    TO    FLORIDA  213 

would  have  recognized  her  in  her  sad  plight.  We 
waited  next  day  for  a  new  bowsprit,  and  for  the 
wind  to  moderate.  Starting  from  Torbay  at  10.20 
a.m.  on  May  22,  the  seventh  day  after  leaving  South- 
ampton, we  arrived  at  Keyham,  and  made  fast  to 
a  buoy  by  nine  o'clock  that  night,  and  anchored  at 
the  Catwater  on  the  23rd.  Early  in  June  I  returned 
to  Devonshire,  and  brought  the  B'nita  to  Cowes. 
The  passage  back  was  accomplished  without  any 
adventure  or  incident  of  particular  interest. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

TO   EGYPT   AND   BACK   AGAIN 

In  July  1889  I  started  for  Egypt  as  a  volunteer  to 
join  General  Sir  F.  Grenfell,  a  fellow-officer  in  the 
GOth  Rifles  in  India.  An  engagement  had  already 
taken  place  between  the  British  troops  under  Colonel 
Wodehouse  and  a  Dervish  force  at  Argain.  The 
latter  were  defeated  and  driven  to  the  hills,  but  not 
without  some  severe  fighting,  as  the  total  loss  of 
British  troops  showed — no  less  than  six  hundred  and 
seventy  being  on  the  list  of  killed  and  wounded. 
The  Dervishes  continued  hostilities  from  their  moun- 
tain fortresses,  and  it  was  accordingly  decided  to 
send  out  reinforcements  under  Sir  F.  Grenfell.  The 
opportunity  for  volunteering  seemed  a  really  promis- 
ing one,  so  on  July  11  I  hurried  up  to  town,  took 
my  ticket  for  Egypt,  got  together  with  all  despatch 
a  small  kit,  and  started  for  the  East  on  the  following 
morning.  There  was  not  an  hour  to  be  lost,  if  one 
was  to  make  sure  of  getting  to  the  front  whilst 
hostilities  were  still  going  on.  Brindisi  was  reached 
on  July  14,  and  left  at  midnight  on  the  same  day. 
Just  outside  Brindisi  the  train  caught  fire,  and  we 
all  but  missed  the  steamer.  The  mail  indeed  passed 
us  as  we  were  engaged  in  putting  out  the  flames. 
Curiously  enough,  a  few  days  afterwards  we  were  in 

214 


TO    EGYPT   AND    BACK   AGAIN       215 

another  fire  outside  Assouan  :  some  cocoanut  matting 
for  camels  got  ablaze  and  burnt  with  great  rapidity. 
On  the  18th  we  arrived  at  Ismailia  on  board  the 
P.  and  0.  steamship  Peninsular,  and  a  special  train 
conveyed  us  thence  to  Cairo.  Here  I  stopped  the 
night  at  General  Sir  J.  Dormer's,  dining  with  General 
de  Montmorency,  who  was  preparing  to  join  Grenfell 
at  Assouan  in  the  course  of  the  next  few  days.  The 
General  entertained  us  at  the  Khedival  Sporting 
Club,  the  menu  of  which  was  irreproachable.  The 
dinner  was  an  al  fresco  one,  and  a  more  enjoyable 
evening  can  scarcely  be  imagined.  We  sat  drinking 
our  cofiee  and  smoking  our  cigarettes  in  the  midst 
of  most  charming  scenery.  I  left  Cairo  on  July  19, 
in  the  company  of  Hickman  of  the  19th  Regiment, 
who  was  attached  to  the  Egyptian  army,  and  reaching 
Assiot,  embarked  on  board  the  Tanjore.  We  passed 
Mensheyah,  Keneh,  and  other  ports  where  there 
were  troops  ready  for  action,  and  arrived  at  Assouan 
on  the  23rd.  After  dinner  that  evening  with  the 
Egyptian  mess,  I  saw  Grenfell,  who  accorded  me  a 
hearty  welcome. 

It  was  when  we  were  bathing  next  day  in  the  Nile 
that  my  desire  to  get  to  the  front  and  see  active 
service  in  some  capacity  or  other  was  broached.  To 
my  chagrin  the  Sirdar  pointed  out  that  it  was  im- 
possible for  him  to  allow  any  one  not  attached  to 
the  Army  of  Occupation  to  do  this.  "  The  only  way,'^ 
said  he,  "  you  can  accomplish  your  ambition  is  to 
get  some  English  newspaper  to  appoint  you  its 
special  correspondent."  The  Toski  affair  was  so 
sudden  and  so  soon  over,  that  none  of  the  great  dailies 
— though  there  was  time  and  to  spare — sent  out  a 


216  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN^S  LIFE 

representative.  Now  "  the  Shifter "  had  actually- 
asked  me  to  send  to  his  paper  any  items  of  interest 
from  the  scene  of  action,  so  playing  my  last  card  I 
said  to  Grenfell,  "  I  am  war  correspondent  of  the 
Pink'un."  He  could  not  help  laughing  at  this,  but 
thought,  with  due  respect  to  the  paper  in  question, 
that  such  a  qualification  could  scarcely  be  allowed 
to  pass  muster.  What  was  to  be  done  ?  Happy 
thought !  Wire  to  Lady  de  Crespigny  and  get  her 
to  find  me  an  appointment.  Pending  a  reply,  the 
only  thing  to  do  was  to  fret  in  inaction  at  Assouan, 
and,  what  was  worse,  to  see  Grenfell  of!  on  July  29 
from  Shellal,  beyond  which  point  it  was  not  permis- 
sible to  advance.  "  I  think  Njumi,"  said  Grenfell  as 
he  departed,  "  is  in  a  hurry  to  get  to  Paradise,  and 
that  we  can  accommodate  him."  It  was  pretty  clear 
indeed  to  most  of  us  that  Njumi  was  playing  a  very 
risky  game,  and  one  likely  to  get  him  into  an  awk- 
ward fix.  He  would  have  been  wiser  to  have  taken 
up  a  position  at  Abou  Simbel,  where  he  might  have 
given  the  Sirdar  a  good  deal  more  trouble. 

All  this  while  the  heat  was  frightful.  I  can  stand 
a  fair  amount  of  roasting  myself,  but  had  to  admit 
that  Assouan  was  the  vilest  spot  I  had  ever  been  in. 
There  were  no  Eastern  appliances  for  keeping  one- 
self cool.  The  one  cooling  thing  was  to  lie  down 
in  the  muddy  old  Nile,  which  was  not  even  fringed 
at  Assouan  with  bulrushes.  Whilst  waiting  at 
Assouan  we  heard  that  our  troops  had  captured 
Njumi's  head  doctor.  This  man's  methods  were 
simplicity  itself,  his  rule  being  kill  or  cure.  The 
doctor's  stock-in-trade  consisted  of  a  barrel  of  oil 
and  a  long  knife.    If  the  former  failed  to  cure  the 


TO   EGYPT   AND   BACK   AGAIN      217 

sick  he  cut  their  throats  with  the  latter,  and  so  pre- 
vented the  hospitals  becoming  too  crowded. 

I  filled  in  the  time  after  seeing  Grenfell  ofi,  and 
whilst  waitmg  a  reply  from  Lady  de  Crespigny,  by 
a  trip  or  two  up  the  river  in  the  steamers  Okmeh  and 
Amkeh,  and  by  accompanying  some  of  the  troops 
who  had  not  yet  pushed  on.  All  the  Mounted 
Infantry  were  still  at  Assouan  at  the  commencement 
of  August,  together  with  some  of  the  cavalry  and 
two  companies  of  the  Welsh  regiment.  A  ride  down 
the  Nile  to  meet  the  infantry  was  rather  a  pleasant 
manner  of  passing  away  the  time.  Skirting  the 
river,  we  had  to  pick  our  way  rather  carefully  under 
the  date-trees,  amongst  the  innumerable  native 
huts  and  wells,  but  were  able  to  return  at  a  swinging 
canter  along  the  cultivated  land  on  the  edge  of 
the  desert,  with  the  irrigation  ditches  for  obstacles. 
Right  cleverly  the  little  Arab  horses  negotiated 
these  ditches.  You  might  almost  have  imagined 
yourself  at  times  schooling  on  Epsom  Downs  ! 

On  other  days  the  cataract  was  ascended  in  the 
two  vessels  referred  to.  The  OmJceh  got  through 
without  a  mishap,  but  the  Amkeh  was  not  so  fortu- 
nate. She  struck  the  rocks  several  times,  and  must 
have  filled  a  good  percentage  of  her  twenty-four 
compartments.  As  one  steams,  the  distance  from 
Assouan  to  Philse  is  seven  miles,  the  rise  being  seven- 
teen feet.  A  stern-wheeler  is  capable  of  making 
fair  headway  except  up  the  narrow  gut  of  the  rapid, 
which  is  250  yards  long.  To  pass  this  we  required 
some  hundreds  of  Egyptian  soldiers  on  our  bow- 
rope,  and  as  many  Berberines  under  the  sheik  of  the 
cataract  on  our  four  guy-ropes.     On  the  second  day 


218  FOKTY  YEAES  OF  A  SPOKTSMAN^S  LIFE 

the  bow-hawser  and  a  wire  guy-rope  suddenly  snapped 
simultaneously,  and  at  a  critical  moment.  We  looked 
perilously  like  getting  broadside  on  and  capsizing, 
after  the  fashion  of  the  ill-fated  gunboat  Kirhacan. 
That  vessel,  it  may  recollected,  was  raised  at  a  cost 
of  some  thousands,  and  then  sold  to  Messrs.  Cook 
for  £100.  We  eventually  got  out  of  our  difficulties, 
and  passed  the  rapids,  to  the  astonishment  appar- 
ently of  the  natives,  who  cheered  loudly. 

These  rapids  have  long  borne  amongst  English- 
men an  evil  reputation  for  danger.  It  was  during 
our  trip  on  the  Amkeh,  and  whilst  waiting  for  a 
native  boat  to  get  out  of  the  way,  that  I  landed  and 
ran  up  the  side  of  the  rapid  with  the  determination 
to  test  the  matter  on  my  own  account.  The  ques- 
tion of  whether  or  no  it  was  possible  to  dive  into  the 
rapids,  swim  down  the  narrow  gut,  and  land  without 
assistance,  had  already  been  discussed  between 
myself  and  several  of  the  officers.  It  was  asserted 
that  only  one  Englishman,  or  more  properly  Scotch- 
man, namely,  Montgomery,  E.N.,  the  boxer,  had 
ever  made  the  attempt,  and  that  he  had  not  actually 
swum  the  narrowest  part  of  the  gut,  but  had  put 
his  swimming  powers  to  the  test  further  down  the 
rapids  ;  nor  did  the  natives  in  my  presence,  not- 
withstanding their  fine  swimming  powers,  ever  dive 
in  and  swim  down  at  this  particular  point.  But  I 
resolved  to  make  the  attempt,  so  dived  in  and  swam 
down  the  narrow  gut  to  within  a  few  yards  of  the 
exit.  Then  having  gone  far  enough  to  convince 
myself  and  others  that  the  thing  was  quite  practic- 
able, it  only  remained  to  get  into  one  of  the  eddies 
at  the  side,  and  so  into  the  quiet  water,  where  a 


TO   EGYPT   AND   BACK   AGAIN       219 

landing  was  ejected  with  ease.  The  rush  of  the 
water  in  the  narrow  gut  is  tremendous,  but  it  is  not 
broken,  as,  for  instance,  below  the  Niagara  Falls ;  and 
the  one  thing  necessary  was  to  keep  oneself  afloat, 
and  to  nicely  calculate  the  force  of  the  stream  so  as 
to  be  able  to  get  into  the  quiet  water.  I  was  in 
excellent  condition  at  the  time,  and  therefore  felt 
absolutely  no  fatigue,  and  after  landing  walked  back 
to  the  boat. 

The  chief  danger  incurred  by  a  strong  swimmer 
in  these  Nile  rapids  is  that  of  being,  through  an  evil 
chance,  drawn  into  a  whirlpool  before  he  can  get  a 
full  breath.  Personally,  I  have  swum  in  almost  all 
parts  of  the  world,  and  in  every  variety  of  water,  and 
don't  think  the  Nile  is  so  particularly  dangerous, 
although  the  natives  have  an  idea  that  if  a  man  once 
dives  down  he  can  never  come  up  again  alive.  As 
for  the  crocodile  danger  it  is  nil,  at  any  rate  at  this 
point  of  the  river.  Besides,  crocodiles  are  like  bears 
— they  much  prefer  clearing  out  of  a  man's  way  to 
attacking  him.  They  invariably  do  so  on  land,  and, 
I  believe,  statements  notwithstanding  to  the  con- 
trary, that  their  behaviour  is  much  the  same  in  the 
water.  Sharks,  too,  often  act  in  a  similar  manner. 
When  stationed  at  Barbadoes  we  used  to  bathe 
on  one  side  of  the  bay  in  perfect  safety,  though 
it  would  have  been  great  folly  to  bathe  on  the 
other,  because  there  the  sharks  fed  on  the  offal 
from  the  slaughterhouse,  and  were  ravenous  for 
blood. 

The  Nile  incident  was  talked  about  a  great  deal 
at  the  time,  and,  so  far  as  I  know  to  the  contrary, 
it  has  never  been  repeated.     But  I  achieved  a  more 


220  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN^S  LIFE 

difficult,  though  perhaps  a  less  sensational,  bit  of 
swimming  once  at  Portland. 

There  is  a  beach  there  called  the  Chesil,  on  which 
the  surf  beats  with  great  force.  So  furious,  when 
there  is  a  sea  on,  is  the  suction  of  the  retreating  waves, 
which  tear  down  with  them  the  beach,  that  it  has 
usually  been  considered  quite  impossible  for  even 
the  strongest  swimmer  to  effect  a  landing.  When 
it  was  known  that  I  had  resolved  to  essay  the  task, 
a  boat  was  in  readiness  to  effect  a  rescue  if  necessary. 
A  tripper  had  got  into  trouble  at  the  Chesil  only  the 
day  before,  and  it  was  therefore  deemed  wise  to 
take  precautions.  I  went  out  through  the  waves, 
and  then  in  coming  back  hovered  as  it  were  pretty 
close  to  the  shingle,  waiting  for  a  small  wave  to  get 
in  with.  A  few  short,  quick  strokes  brought  me 
in  with  the  fifth  or  sixth  wave — a  small  one — and  I 
succeeded  in  running  up  on  to  the  beach,  although 
the  shingle  rolled  away  a  good  deal  from  under  my 
feet.  The  use  of  the  head  and  the  feet  was  more 
necessary  than  that  of  the  arms.  During  heavy 
storms  the  strength  of  the  waves  at  this  place  is 
prodigious  ;  and  tradition  has  it  that  a  ship  was  once 
swept  clean  over  the  Chesil  Beach  and  into  the  Bay. 

A  good  many  people,  having  heard — often  through 
unreliable  sources — of  these  and  other  adventures, 
have  chosen  to  set  me  down  as  either  a  man  quite 
reckless  of  life  and  limb,  or  an  advertiser  on  a  big 
scale.  To  have  won,  even  without  meriting  it,  either 
of  these  reputations  is  scarcely  a  matter  to  be  "  wept 
with  tears  of  blood.'"  There  is  at  least  nothing  dis- 
honourable in  holding  one's  life  cheap,  however 
small  the  stake  played  for  ;  whilst  in  an  age  of  self- 


TO    EGYPT   AND    BACK   AGAIN       221 

advertisement  some  tolerance  ought  to  be  extended 
to  one  who  makes  himself  known  by  courting  danger 
whether  in  earth,  sea,  or  sky.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
I  cannot  lay  claim  to  either  distinction,  having  never 
actually  courted  danger  for  its  own  sweet  sake  ;  and 
never  risked  my  life  and  limb  for  the  paltry  pur- 
pose of  self-advertisement.  However,  there  is  a 
wide  difference  between  risking  your  life  through 
pure  ignorance  of  its  value,  and  shunning  danger 
when  by  so  doing  you  must  soil  the  escutcheon  of 
bravery,  which  should  be  the  most  precious  posses- 
sion of  every  good  Englishman.  Indifference  to 
danger  in  a  good  cause,  and  especially  where  a  man's 
honour  is  at  stake,  is  absolutely  essential.  Could 
our  ancestors,  the  makers  of  England,  had  they  not 
been  actuated  by  some  such  principle  as  this,  have 
put  together  this  great  Empire  ?     Surely  never  ! 

This  may  seem  no  more  than  a  truism,  save  perhaps 
to  that  miserable  party  of  men  known  as  the  "  little 
Englanders."  For  myself,  I  must  go  further,  and 
declare  that  it  is  necessary,  unless  we  are  to  perish 
like  the  Romans  in  the  lap  of  peace  and  luxury,  that 
some  of  us  should  strive  to  keep  alive  the  reputation 
which  Englishmen  have  always  had  of  greatly  daring 
and  suffering  all  things.  Surely  where  there  is  a 
daring  deed  to  be  done  in  any  part  of  the  world, 
an  Englishman  should  leap  to  the  front  to  accom- 
plish it. 

It  needs  but  little  reading  between  the  lines  to 
discover  a  sentiment  similar  to  this  running  through 
much  of  the  best  patriotic  literature  of  our  country, 
and  through  almost  every  page  of  our  history.  Deeds 
of  daring  strewn  so  plentifully  through  the  story  of 


222  FOKTY  YEAES  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

England  impart  to  it  an  imperishable  glamour. 
The  heroic  exploits  of  Richard  the  Lion-hearted  must 
appeal  to  young  hearts  for  ever,  as  must  the  courage 
of  Falkland  and  many  another  great  Englishman  on 
the  field  of  battle.  Even  from  those  who  swear  by 
Cromwell,  and  condemn  the  Stuarts  and  all  their 
ways,  the  despairing  courage  of  the  Cavaliers  and  of 
the  Jacobites  may  almost  draw  a  tear.  The  charge 
of  the  Light  Brigade  down  the  North  Valley,  was  it 
wild  and  useless  ?  Yes,  it  may  have  been,  but  no 
brighter  gem  sparkles  in  the  crown  of  the  nation. 

Swimming  and  riding  were  all  very  well  in  their 
way,  but  it  was  not  exactly  for  these  pursuits  that  I 
had  come  out  to  Egypt.  It  was  therefore  a  cause 
for  rejoicing  when  the  message  came  from  my  wife 
that  I  was  appointed  to  act  as  Special  Correspondent 
of  the  East  Anglian  Daily  Times.  We  had  already 
heard  various  rumours  concerning  Njumi  and  his 
movements.  One  was  to  the  effect  that  his  health 
was  good,  and  that  he  was  still  advancing ;  whilst 
another  asserted  that  he  was  badly  diseased,  and 
had  to  be  carted  about  in  a  barrel  of  butter — an  awk- 
ward position  for  the  leader  of  a  Dervish  raid.  It 
would  now  be  possible  to  get  to  the  front,  and  find 
out  the  true  state  of  things. 

So  at  length,  after  more  than  a  week's  anxious 
waiting,  I  was  able  to  tell  De  Montmorency  of  my 
appointment,  and  on  Saturday,  August  3,  to  wire  to 
Grenfell  to  the  same  effect ;  and  then  to  start  up 
the  Nile  in  a  felucca  from  Shellal,  which  was  reached 
from  Assouan  by  train.  We  reached  Abuhor,  a 
distance  of  forty-eight  miles,  on  the  first  day  ;  Kos- 
tambe,  a  distance  of  sixty-three,  on  the  second  ;  and 


TO    EGYPT   AND   BACK   AGAIN       223 

Tabbel,  eighty-eight  miles,  on  the  third,  which  was 
Bank  Holiday.  Before  this  a  hitch  had  occurred. 
The  crew  got  fairly  beaten  owing  to  the  amount  of 
work  they  had  to  do  when  the  wind  dropped.  What 
was  to  be  done  ?  The  captain  and  owner  of  the 
felucca  recommended  that  the  sheik  of  a  village  we 
had  reached  should  be  asked  to  supply  men  to  tow 
us  up  to  the  next  village.  The  sheik  was  approached, 
and  declined,  saying  he  had  no  spare  men.  For- 
tunately I  was  armed  with  a  Colt's  revolver,  and  I 
asked,  *'  Shall  I  shoot  the  fellow  if  he  persists  in  his 
present  attitude  ?  "  The  reply  was  prompt  and 
decisive,  "  Certainly,  shoot  him.''  The  rascally 
sheik  was  informed  of  my  intention  to  shoot  him  for 
insubordination  if  he  did  not  instantly  alter  his 
tactics.  In  a  moment  his  demeanour  underwent  an 
entire  change.  Nothing  could  exceed  his  desire  to 
oblige  in  every  respect,  and  accommodate  himself 
to  my  requirements.  After  the  revolver  argument 
had  entered  into  the  controversy  there  were  any 
number  of  men  at  every  village  ready  to  tow  us  along 
where  a  fair  wind  was  lacking.  As  a  result  we 
actually  kept  for  awhile  well  ahead  of  the  Army  of 
Occupation,  which  was  advancing  in  steamers  under 
De  Montmorency. 

On  my  way  up  the  Nile  I  seriously  considered 
whether  it  might  not  prove  of  real  assistance  to  Gren- 
fell  to  cut  the  telegraph  wires.  It  was  the  recollection 
of  the  way  in  which  Sir  Evelyn  Wood  had  been 
hampered  and  harassed  in  Africa  by  the  Govern- 
ment a  few  years  before,  that  made  me  think  about 
this  ;  but  going  into  the  matter,  it  occurred  to  me 
that  in  the  case  of  Sir  Evelyn  Wood,  Mr.  Gladstone 


224  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

held  the  reins  ;  whilst  Lord  Salisbury  was  now  in 
power,  and  not  very  likely  to  repeat  the  blunder  of 
his  predecessors.  Had  Mr.  Gladstone  been  in  power 
I  should  most  certainly  have  set  to  work  to  cut 
the  wires,  and  burn  down  the  telegraph-posts.  My 
crew  no  doubt  would  have  rendered  all  the  necessary 
assistance. 

When  off  Maharakka,  on  the  evening  of  August  5, 
I  observed,  first  to  my  astonishment  and  then  to  my 
intense  vexation,  a  flotilla  consisting  of  steamers, 
barges,  and  a  dahabeah,  flying  the  white  flag  with 
the  red  cross  coming  down  stream.  It  must  mean 
this,  that  it  was  all  over  "  bar  shouting  "  with  the 
Dervish  raid  and  Njumi.  The  ill  fortune,  which 
had  on  several  occasions  pursued  me  when  intent 
on  seeing  some  active  service,  once  more  dogged  my 
footsteps,  despite  the  fine  opportunity  that  had  at 
length  apparently  presented  itself.  We  were  hugging 
the  east  shore  at  the  time  this  flotilla  came  in  un- 
welcome sight.  The  boats  were  well  in  the  current 
on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  and  as  the  Nile  is  not 
exactly  a  trout  stream,  there  were  no  means  of  com- 
municating with  them.  Clinging  to  the  vain  hope 
that  my  apprehensions  might  be  wrong,  I  carried  on 
towards  Korosko,  resolving  to  try  and  gain  some 
reliable  information  on  the  way.  A  few  miles  from 
Samooah  we  stopped  at  a  small  village  where  there 
was  an  Egyptian  officer  and  man.  As  most  of  the 
Egyptian  officers  speak  either  English  or  French,  I 
looked  to  this  one  for  information.  To  my  surprise, 
however,  it  was  not  the  officer,  but  the  man,  who 
was  able  to  reply  in  somewhat  broken  French  to  my 
inquiries.     We  learnt  from  him  that  Njumi's  force 


TO    EGYPT   AND    BACK   AGAIN       225 

had  been  completely  routed  at  Toski.  Later  on 
further  tidings  came  to  hand,  which  told  how  Njumi 
himself  had  been  killed,  together  with  fifteen  Emirs 
and  fifteen  hundred  men,  at  the  loss  of  a  very  few 
of  our  troops.  There  were  probably  amongst  those 
who  fell  or  fled  at  Toski  not  a  few  fighting  Dervishes, 
such  as  broke  into  our  squares  a  few  years  previously. 
The  genuine  Dervish  was  an  extraordinary  specimen 
of  humanity.  He  and  even  his  camp-followers  were 
utterly  callous  of  pain,  and  laughed  at  amputations. 
A  stranger  told  us  of  two  incidents  which  came  under 
his  personal  observation  in  relation  to  these  folk, 
men  and  women.  He  was  ready  to  swear  that  he 
had  one  day  found  in  a  palm-tree  a  man  whose  leg 
he  had  amputated  twenty-four  hours  before,  and 
that  he  had  seen  a  woman  grinding  corn  the  day 
subsequent  to  his  having  taken  off  one  of  her  legs 
at  the  thigh  and  one  of  her  arms  above  the  elbow  ! 
He  succeeded  in  telUng  these  tales  without  a  smile. 

The  fun  being  all  over,  we  turned  back  after  three 
days'  real  hard  work  in  striving  to  keep  ahead  of  De 
Montmorency's  troops.  A  large  percentage  of  head 
and  light  winds  are  but  poor  allies  in  the  business 
of  overcoming  a  rising  Nile  with  constant  rapids. 
At  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  with  a  good  moon, 
I  resolved  to  head  for  Assouan,  though  expecting 
remonstrances  from  my  boatmen.  It  turned  out, 
however,  that  they  were  one  and  all  only  too  anxious 
to  get  back  again  to  their  wives  and  homes.  On 
we  went  at  once.  The  men  rowed  vigorously — with 
such  oars  too  ! — through  the  night,  singing  after 
their  quaint  fashion.  I  had  lately  been  enjoying  the 
melody  of  such  artistes  as  Battistini,  Nevada,  and 

15 


226  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

Regina  Paccini,  so  that  the  Arabic  boat-song  palled 
a,  trifle  after  a  while,  but  in  its  way  it  was  not  devoid 
of  a  certain  beauty.  It  took  twenty-four  hours  to 
do  the  eighty-two  miles  to  Shellal,  notwithstanding 
the  current  and  rapids  in  our  favour.  We  were 
caught  in  a  vicious  little  squall  in  the  "  Gates  of 
Kaldbsheh,"  and  very  nearly  capsized.  This  was  the 
only  incident  of  much  note  during  the  homeward 
journey.  I  had  one  most  narrow  shave,  which  made 
my  blood  run  cold  when  I  thought  of  it  for  a  long 
time  afterwards.  On  the  look-out  in  the  night  for 
game  of  any  sort  along  the  banks  of  the  river,  I 
barely  escaped  putting  a  bullet  into  the  head  of  a 
camel  which  suddenly  appeared  behind  a  jackal  that 
ofiered  a  tempting  shot  on  the  skyline.  It  might 
have  been  hard  to  live  down  the  ridicule  sure  to  be 
attached  to  any  one  for  shooting  one  of  these  long- 
suffering  and  very  non-combatant  beasts  of  burden. 

In  the  Nile,  some  miles  above  Shellal,  poor  Major 
Turnbull  lost  his  life.  He  fell  overboard  at  night, 
and  must  have  been  taken  under  by  a  whirlpool  just 
after  he  had  called  to  his  companions  in  the  daha- 
beah  that  he  was  all  right.  Early  on  the  morning  of 
August  7  we  shot  the  cataracts  in  the  felucca  in  com- 
pany with  Chaplain-General  Collins  ;  recovered  the 
body  of  Turnbull  terribly  disfigured,  and  buried  it 
with  all  military  honours  at  Assouan.  The  body  was 
in  the  shallows,  where  I  had  foretold  it  would  be 
found.  It  was  discovered  by  his  company  dog,  who, 
with  an  intelligence  rather  above  that  of  an  average 
human  being,  induced  some  of  the  men  to  accompany 
him  back  to  the  spot  where  the  officer  was  lying. 

The  Egyptian  question  has  been  discussed  a  great 


TO    EGYPT   AND    BACK   AGAIN       227 

deal  of  late.  This  is  scarcely  the  place  to  deal  with 
such  a  matter,  but  I  cannot  help  remarking  that  my 
experience  of  the  country  and  its  inhabitants  has  led 
me  to  form  a  strong  opinion  against  evacuation. 
The  Egyptians  are  utterly  incapable  of  self-govern- 
ment, and  if  left  to  themselves  they  would  speedily 
slip  back  again  into  all  the  old  evils  of  bribery  and 
corruption,  which  appear  to  be  inherent  in  nations 
under  Mussulman  rule. 

On  August  12  I  embarked  at  Alexandria  on  board 
the  Cathay,  and  was  at  Brindisi  on  the  15th.  Here 
I  wired  to  Don  Carlos  to  expect  me  in  Venice  in  a 
couple  of  days,  and  upon  arrival  there  found  a  beau- 
tiful gondola  waiting  to  take  me  to  his  residence, 
the  Palazzo  Loredan.  The  Palazzo,  where  Don 
Carlos  resided,  is  finely  situated,  with  extensive 
views  of  the  Grand  Canal ;  and  it  contains,  amongst 
other  interesting  things,  one  of  the  most  perfect 
private  armouries  in  Europe.  I  was  able  to  add  to 
it  on  the  occasion  of  my  visit  in  the  shape  of  a  Colt's 
revolver — the  very  one  which  had  brought  the  un- 
ruly sheik  to  his  senses — and  a  Dervish  sword. 

There  was  only  the  afternoon  and  evening  to  spend 
at  Venice  ;  but  I  was  not  at  all  averse  to  my  host's 
agreeable  proposition  that  we  should  bathe.  At  Lido 
we  swam  about  for  a  good  while  near  the  shore,  when 
suddenly  Don  Carlos  exclaimed,  "  Now  we  will  go 
for  a  swim,"  and  struck  out  as  if  with  the  intention 
of  crossing  the  Adriatic  to  Fiume.  This  was  rather 
more  than  I  bargained  for,  as  I  was  getting  very  cold, 
and  not  unnaturally  so  after  the  grilling  in  Egypt. 
After  a  time,  however,  my  host  thoughtfully  asked 
me  whether  I  felt  at  all  cold,  and  upon  my  replying 


228   FOKTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

in  the  affirmative,  somewhat  to  my  relief  instantly 
turned  towards  the  shore.  Venice  was  left  shortly 
before  midnight,  and  London  reached  on  the  evening 
of  August  19. 

After  my  return  from  Egypt  I  contented  myself 
with  hunting  and  shooting,  taking  part  in  no  steeple- 
chasing  whatever  in  the  autumn  and  winter  of  1889. 
In  the  first  few  months  of  1890  I  addressed  myself 
to  hunting,  chiefly  in  the  New  Forest,  and  in  the 
spring  and  early  summer  to  cruising  about  the  coast 
in  a  small  boat. 

It  does  not  often  fall  to  one's  lot  to  get  through 

a  *'  mill  "  in  the  midst  of  a  run.     But  this  rather  novel 

experience  did  once  fall  to  my  lot  when  out  cubbing 

with  the   East  Essex.     The  hounds  were  running, 

when  I  rode  up  to  a  gate,  on  the  other  side  of  which 

were  a  ploughman  and  two  men  in  a  cart,  one  of 

whom  was  a  renowned  local  "  bruiser."     I  remarked 

to  the  ploughman  that  he  might  have  opened  the 

gate  seeing  the  hounds  running,  and  the  others  took 

this  in  ill  part.    A  volley  of  oaths  told  me  that  one 

of  them  was  more  than  my  match  in  blasphemy, 

so  I  made  no  further  comment,  and  intended  to  pass 

on  without  more  ado.     However,  to  my  surprise  the 

man  got  out  of  the  cart  in  no  time,  and  expressed 

a  desire  to  kick  me.     I  dismounted  of  course,  and 

prepared  to  do  battle.    He  was  a  huge  fellow,  fully 

six  feet  in  height,  proportionately  broad,  and  on  the 

upper  ground.      Retreat,  however,  was  out  of  the 

question,  and  it  only  remained  to  make  the  best  of 

what  looked  like  rather  a  bad  bargain,  more  especially 

as  my  right  arm  had  not  recovered  from  a  compound 

fracture.     We  went  for  one  another  hammer  and 


TO    EGYPT   AND    BACK   AGAIN       229 

tongs,  and  at  the  onset  my  antagonist  got  rather 
the  best  of  it.  After  the  first  burst  we  stopped  in- 
stinctively for  a  moment  or  two,  glaring  at  each  other 
in  the  way  men  do  under  such  circumstances.  In 
that  brief  interim  I  saw  that  his  great  flanks  were 
heaving.  "  0  ho,  my  friend,"  thought  I,  "  at  any 
rate  I'm  more  than  your  match  so  far  as  condition 
is  concerned."  Almost  directly  afterwards  I  landed 
him  one  on  "  the  point,"  and  the  contest  was  over. 
He  never  showed  fight  after  that,  nor  did  his  com- 
panion, who  was  invited  to  come  down  and  try  his 
fortune.  "  What's  good  enough  for  my  friend,"  he 
remarked,  "  will  do  for  me."  Several  members  of 
the  hunt  had  come  up  whilst  we  were  at  it  and  formed 
a  ring.  The  fight  over,  we  mounted  and  were  able 
to  rejoin  the  hounds,  which  were  still  running.  I 
cannot  recollect  whether  or  no  we  killed  our  fox. 

Later  on  in  July,  I  took  the  B'nita  from  Hyde  to 
Folkestone,  and  then  crossed  the  Channel  to  Boulogne. 
The  trip  took  four  days.  It  was  not  so  eventful  as 
one  or  two  other  excursions  of  the  kind  which  I  have 
made  in  small  boats  in  the  open  sea  ;  but  it  may 
be  not  without  interest,  in  case  others  should  desire 
to  make  the  same  trip  in  fine  weather,  to  give  the 
time  of  starting,  and  the  number  of  miles  covered 
each  day.  On  the  first  day  we  sailed  at  1.35  p.m. 
and  arrived  at  Selsea  Bill  at  7.50  p.m.,  a  distance 
of  fourteen  miles  ;  on  the  second  day  Selsea  was 
left  at  4.40  a.m.  and  Brighton  reached  at  8.20  p.m. — 
distance  twenty-three  miles  ;  on  the  third  day  we 
left  Brighton  at  3.35  a.m.  and  reached  Folkestone 
4.30  p.m.,  a  distance  of  fifty-seven  miles.  Folkestone 
was  left  at  4.10  p.m.  on  the  fourth  and  last  day,  and 


230  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

Boulogne  reached  at  10  o'clock  that  night — distance 
twenty-five  miles.  Thus,  the  total  number  of  miles 
being  one  hundred  and  nineteen,  the  average  a  day 
was  just  under  thirty. 

I  was  a  good  deal  in  Boulogne  in  July  and  August 
of  this  year,  and  did  some  pigeon-shooting,  though 
the  sport  was  not  worthy  of  much  notice.  One 
day,  being  in  form,  I  managed  to  knock  my  com- 
petitors, who  were  Frenchmen,  one  and  all  well 
out  of  it.  Thereat  arose  a  good  deal  of  soreness  and 
grumbling,  which  was  only  stopped  by  some  one 
explaining,  "  Oh,  but  de  Crespigny  is  one  of  our- 
selves.    His  name  should  tell  you  that." 

The  year  1891  was  an  uneventful  year  so  far  as 
steeplechasing  was  concerned,  but  next  year  it  was 
possible  to  settle  down  once  more  with  a  will  to 
cross-country  sport.  On  March  24  I  found  myself 
again  on  the  steeplechase  course  that  ought  to  be 
at  least  as  familiar  to  me  as  any  in  the  country — 
Chelmsford.  It  is  not  easy  to  say  how  many  times 
I  have  ridden  there,  but  I  know  that  twenty  years 
ago  my  total  was  sixteen,  covering  about  forty  miles. 
The  calculation  was  then  made  for  the  purpose  of 
showing  that  steeplechasing  was  not  nearly  so  dan- 
gerous a  pursuit — so  far  as  fatal  accidents  went — as 
many  seemed  to  imagine.  In  those  sixteen  steeple- 
chases I  fell  only  twice,  and  was  in  neither  instance 
considerably  hurt.  At  the  same  time  it  has  happened 
that  my  worst  tumbles  have  been  on  courses  other 
than  Chelmsford,  such  as  Lingfield  and  Hurst  Park. 

Correze  has  turned  out  the  best  horse  I  have  ever 
had  the  fortune  to  own  and  train  in  England.  We 
bred  him  ourselves  out  of  Wild  Georgie  by  Young 


TO    EGYPT   AND   BACK    AGAIN        231 

Citadel,  and  he  was  the  mare^s  second  foal.  Wild 
Georgie  was  originally  bought  to  ride  as  a  Yeomanry 
charger  ;  and  her  pedigree  has  already  been  touched 
upon.  Young  Citadel  (1872)  was  a  direct  descendant 
of  Brutandorf,  and  a  writer  commenting  on  this  has 
remarked,  "  There  are  very  few,  if  any,  horses  now  at 
the  stud  representing  this  line  ;  and  so  good-looking 
is  Correze  that  he  will  be  valuable  for  transmitting 
it,  and  so  reviving  an  almost  extinct  but  very  valuable 
branch  of  the  Blacklock  family."  Young  Citadel  was 
by  Lambton,  son  of  The  Cure,  son  of  The  Physician, 
son  of  Brutandorf.  We  first  made  up  our  minds 
that  Correze  was  really  useful  when  he  won  a  four- 
mile  trial  at  Captain  Aiken's,  where  he  easily  knocked 
out  Profit,  a  horse  that  went  the  first  two  miles  with 
him — and  also  The  Sikh.  The  latter  would  have 
been  my  mount  at  Liverpool,  had  he  not  unhappily 
broken  a  blood-vessel  in  that  trial. 

Correze  came  out  as  a  good  horse  rather  slowly  ; 
at  least  he  did  nothing  very  much  in  his  first  few 
races,  though  not  always  very  lucky.  On  April  18 
I  got  a  nasty  fall  with  him  on  the  course  outside  the 
Cavalry  Barracks  at  Colchester.  He  crossed  his  legs 
after  landing  over  the  brook,  came  down,  and  gave 
me  concussion  of  the  brain.  As  I  was  carried  past 
my  second  son,  a  yokel  remarked,  "  Wonder  whether 
he's  gone  to  'eaven."  In  about  twenty  minutes  I 
came  round,  not  much  the  worse  for  the  toss.  Two 
days  afterwards,  April  20,  was  my  forty-fifth  birth- 
day. It  is  pleasant  to  win  a  race  on  one's  birthday 
if  it  can  be  managed.  It  was  managed  on  that  day, 
for  going  down  to  Woodbridge,  I  won  the  Orwell 
Hurdle  Kace  by  three  lengths  on  Marcus  Beresford's, 


232  FOETY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

afterwards  Lord  Decies'  Amber,  riding  of  course  as 
one  naturally  does  on  another  man's  horse — unless 
told  to  make  your  own  pace — to  orders.  Gondola 
was  second  ;  Topper  third.  In  the  following  year, 
too,  I  won  a  race  on  my  forty-sixth  birthday. 

From  Woodbridge  it  is  not  a  far  cry  to  Ipswich, 
where  there  was  some  steeplechasing  two  days  later. 
I  did  not  excel  there,  but  was  more  in  luck  at 
Chelmsford,  on  the  28th  winning  the  Selling  Steeple- 
chase on  Mr.  Ditton's  Old  Ben,  beating  the  favourite 
— Major  Peter's  Barbiana,  who  was  ridden  by  Mr. 
Cheney — by  a  length  or  so. 

In  the  winter  of  1892  Correze  was  not  a  very  good 
second  in  the  Essex  Open  Steeplechase  at  Chelmsford 
on  Nov.  30,  Mr.  Clayton's  Grab  All,  the  favourite, 
who  was  then  in  good  form,  being  too  much  for  him. 
Correze  indeed  was  not  at  all  fancied,  and  started  a 
rank  outsider.  At  Bury,  a  week  later,  in  the  Suffolk 
County  Steeplechase,  Correze  was  going  strong,  and 
seemed  a  winner  all  over,  when,  three  fences  from 
home,  Fugleman,  whom  I  struck  into,  crossed,  and 
this  brought  us  down.  Next  time  I  rode  the  horse 
was  at  Hurst  Park  on  Dec.  10,  starting  as  outsider 
in  a  field  of  five,  and  getting  second  to  Sensier,  who 
won  on  Mr.  Ryall's  Kynaston.  This  was  over  a 
three-mile  course,  as  was  also  the  Essex  Open  Steeple- 
chase. Correze  has  always  been  rather  a  stayer  than 
a  speedy  horse,  and  does  not  run  up  to  his  form  over 
short  courses  such  as  two  miles. 

In  the  early  part  of  1893  it  fell  to  my  lot  to  get 
knocked  about  a  good  deal  on  one  or  two  courses, 
but  I  was  able  fortunately  to  soon  shake  of!  the 
effects  of  my  falls,  and  to  enjoy  a  good  deal  of  sport. 


TO    EGYPT    AND   BACK   AGAIN       233 

January  21,  1893,  was  a  day  miicli  more  fitted 
for  skating  than  riding  across  country.  Indeed 
skating  was  actually  going  on  within  a  stone's  throw 
of  the  course  at  Lingfield,  where  we  were  steeple- 
chasing.  I  received  what  at  the  time  looked  like  a 
very  ugly  fall. 

When  my  horse  fell  there  was  another  close  at  his 
heels,  but  knowing  the  man  for  whom  I  was  riding 
believed  my  mount  ought  easily  to  win,  I  took  no 
heed  of  this  in  my  anxiety  to  be  up  and  doing  again. 
So  I  rose  at  once,  and  as  I  did  so  the  off  fore  plate 
of  the  horse  behind  struck  me  a  heavy  blow  just  over 
the  eye.  I  was  of  course  insensible  for  a  while, 
but  came  to  before  the  stretcher  was  brought,  and 
was  led  away  between  two  friends,  one  of  whom, 
by  the  way,  was  relieved  of  his  note-book  by  a 
member  of  the  light-fingered  fraternity  as  he  leant 
over  me.  A  policeman  on  this  occasion  offered 
to  try  his  surgical  skill  on  me,  but  I  flatly 
refused  to  submit  myself  to  his  tender  mercies. 
Ultimately  they  plastered  me  up,  and,  when  I 
arrived  home,  my  own  doctor  bandaged  and  sewed 
me  up  properly  with  cat-gut. 

Three  or  four  days  later  I  was  out  and  engaged 
in  rolling  my  cricket-ground,  which,  by  the  way, 
is  an  excellent  way  of  keeping  oneself  in  con- 
dition. I  followed  this  up  with  a  Turkish  bath,  and 
the  day  after  was,  though  still  in  bandages,  quite 
fit  to  ride  Correze  and  Birdseye  at  Hurst  Park.  But 
I  did  nothing,  as  the  former  fell  in  one  race  at  the 
ditch,  and  made  such  a  hole  in  the  fence  that  my 
old  friend.  Sir  Matthew  Wood,  the  then  Secretary, 
threatened  to  send  me  in  a  bill  for  damages  ;  whilst 


234  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

the  latter  only  managed  to  come  in  fourth  in  an  open 
selling  race. 

Though  now  and  again  I  have  had  a  little  brush 
not  of  a  particularly  unfriendly  character  with 
sporting  writers,  I  have  to  gratefully  acknowledge 
that  the  sporting  press  has,  on  the  whole,  always 
dealt  by  me  in  a  very  kind  manner.  There  were 
some  allusions  to  this  accident  at  Lingfield,  one  of 
which  may  be  reproduced  : — "Neither  broken  bones, 
concussion  of  the  brain,  nor  a  severed  artery  can 
take  the  gameness  out  of  Sir  Claude  de  Crespigny. 
What  with  his  ballooning,  his  boxing,  his  racing, 
and  his  other  lively  pursuits.  Sir  Claude  has  been 
knocked  about  as  much  as  most  people.  Last  Sat- 
urday, whilst  riding  in  a  steeplechase  at  Lingfield, 
his  horse  fell,  and  he  was  kicked  on  the  head  by 
another  animal,  sustaining  concussion  of  the  brain 
and  a  severed  artery.  He  was  carried  home,  and 
his  wounds  were  found  to  be  of  so  severe  a  character 
that  they  had  to  be  sewn  up.  In  less  than  twenty- 
four  hours,  however,  Sir  Claude  was  writing  to  the 
editor,  saying  that  he  was  doing  well  and  hoped  to 
be  in  the  saddle  again  before  long.''  The  letter 
referred  to  was  the  following  : — 

"  Turkish  Bath,  Northumberland  Avenue, 
Jan.  25,  1893. 

"  Dear  Sir, 

"  My  daughter,  who  has  just  started  for  Exeter, 
has  handed  me  your  kind  letter.  Yesterday  my  M.D. 
considered  danger  from  erysipelas  had  passed,  and 
let  me  out  for  an  hour  (which  I  took  on  a  stone 
roller  on  the  Champion  Hill  Cricket  Ground).     To- 


TO   EGYPT   AND    BACK   AGAIN       235 

day  I've  had  a  good  spell  in  the  Turkish  bath  ;  to- 
morrow shall  go  down  to  the  country  for  a  gallop, 
and  on  Friday  hope  to  sport  silk  at  Hurst  Park 
Steeplechases. 

"  C.  Ch.  de  Crespigny." 

Aiken  and  I  went  down  to  Warwick  on  Feb.  6, 
when  I  rode  in  the  Warwick  Handicap  Steeplechase, 
starting  an  outsider  on  The  Sikh.  The  horse  however 
was  placed  second,  though  well  beaten  by  Wenty 
Hope  Johnstone,  whose  mount  was  Mr.  Irving's 
Champion,  the  second  favourite.  This  was  described 
as  quite  an  old  jockeys'  race,  for  between  us  and  our 
horses  it  was  calculated  that  our  total  ages  amounted 
to  over  a  hundred  years  ! 

After  this  race  we  tried  to  get  up  a  match  between 
Wenty  and  myself  over  a  four-mile  course  at  San- 
down,  and  on  the  same  horses.  Wenty  was  to  give 
a  stone  for  the  beating.  I  should  have  fancied  The 
Sikh  on  these  terms,  but  the  match  never  came  off. 

In  the  seventies  the  7th  Hussars — the  old  Regiment 
of  both  Wenty  Hope  Johnstone  and  Billy  Morris — 
the  9th  Lancers,  and  the  Guards  supplied  most  of 
the  soldier  jockeys  that  could  hold  their  own  both 
inside  and  outside  the  military  circle.  When  River- 
escat  won  the  Grand  Military,  the  7th  had  no  less 
than  five  jockeys  riding  in  the  race — namely,  John 
Drye  Barker,  Baby  M'Calmont,  Marcus  Beresford, 
Billy  Morris,  and  Wenty  Hope  Johnstone.  This  re- 
minds one  of  Eton  pretty  well  monopolizing  one  of 
the  'Varsity  boats,  as  she  often  has  done.  Probably 
no  regiment  has  ever  been  quite  so  strong  in  jockeys 
as  the  7th  was  at  that  period. 


236  FOETY  YEABS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  IJFE 

Billy  Morris — known  in  the  7th  as  Billy  Morgan — 
was,  in  my  opinion,  the  finest  soldier  jockey  of  his 
time,  and  he  could  ride  under  ten  stone.  He  rode 
more  than  once  in  the  Grand  National,  and  when 
up  on  Downpatrick  was  first  on  the  racecourse.  Twice 
he  won  the  Grand  Military,  each  time  on  Chilblain, 
and  once  the  Irish  Military  on  Witch  Hazel.  Billy 
was  immensely  popular  amongst  all  racing  men,  ama- 
teur and  professional  alike.  There  is  a  dark  cloud 
about  his  end,  which  can  now  never  be  thoroughly 
cleared  away.  It  has  always  been  a  belief  with  some 
of  us  that  he  was  hustled  in  the  hunting-field  where 
he  came  by  his  death,  and  left  to  an  untimely  end. 
A  friend  and  soldier  colleague  of  his  says — "  Billy 
was  found  lying  with  his  collar  and  shirt  undone, 
and  his  pin  stuck  in  his  coat.  His  neck  was  broken. 
Hard  by,  his  horse  was  tied  to  a  paling.  How  it 
happened,  or  who  saw  it,  is  a  tale  that  has  never  been 
told.  A  bold  horseman  and  a  good  soldier  was  poor 
Billy  Morgan." 

Old  Chilblain  wound  up  his  career  in  peace  and 
honour  at  Champion  Lodge.  He  had  his  horse-box, 
shed,  and  four  acres  of  paddock,  and  a  companion 
for  some  time  too  in  the  shape  of  a  lamb.  This 
animal  followed  Chilblain  as  faithfully  as  that  of 
the  poet  did  Mary,  and  a  great  affection  sprang  up 
between  the  two.  Whichever  left  the  box  first  the 
other  immediately  followed,  and  at  the  same  pace. 
The  horse  and  lamb  grazed  alongside  of  one  another, 
and  when  the  horse  lay  down,  the  lamb  followed 
suit.  They  became,  in  fact,  inseparable — a  remark- 
able instance  of  Platonic  aiiection  between  two 
animals. 


TO    EGYPT   AND   BACK   AGAIN       237 

In  several  instances  during  the  spring  of  this  year 
Corr^ze  had  bad  luck,  losing  races  by  little  unforeseen 
accidents.  Thus  on  March  3  he  was  leading  in  at 
Sandown  Park  in  the  National  Hunt,  when  he  blun- 
dered at  the  brook,  and  went  on  his  head  and  knees. 
He  recovered,  but  I  had  to  jump  the  next  two  fences 
without  one  of  my  irons.  After  the  blunder  I  felt 
the  off-leather  getting  longer  and  longer,  and  speedily 
perceiving  what  had  occurred,  made  a  desperate  en- 
deavour as  we  were  passing  the  stand  to  adjust  the 
buckle.  This  was  ultimately  done,  but  not  till  we 
had  passed  the  stand.  Correze  made  a  dash  for  the 
big  gate  instead  of  bearing  to  the  right,  and  this  lost 
so  much  ground  that  it  was  impossible  to  make  it 
up.  The  winner  was  Van  der  Berg,  with  Cuthbert 
Slade  up.  Correze  had  started  an  outsider  ;  sub- 
sequently he  turned  the  table  on  Van  der  Berg. 

On  March  8  we  repaired  to  Gatwick,  and  I  rode 
Correze  in  the  Harkaway  Steeplechase,  but  had  to 
put  up  with  a  beating  from  Lily  of  the  Valley,  with 
Dollery  up. 

In  a  hurdle  race  at  Windsor  on  March  13  I  came 
down  pretty  hard  with  Eobert  Dudley.  It  was  a 
case  of  slight  concussion  ;  but  I  jumped  up,  interested 
to  see  what  was  winning,  and  was  so  stupefied  by 
the  fall  that  I  found  myself  looking  right  in  the 
opposite  direction  to  the  winning-post. 

The  streak  of  bad  luck  which  pursued  me  for  part 
of  this  spring  season  of  1893  was  not  broken  through 
on  March  23.  At  Chelmsford,  I  went  over  the  Galley- 
wood  Course  carefully  beforehand,  and  ought  to  have 
won  the  Chelmsford  Steeplechase.  It  sometimes 
happens  that  when  a  horse  has  been  doing  stiff  fences, 


238  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

he  fails  altogether  over  a  much  easier  country.  I 
feared  this  might  happen  at  Chelmsford,  and  it  did. 
Correze  was  going  well,  till  he  took  it  into  his  head 
to  hit  the  rail  of  the  fourth  fence,  not  more  than  a 
foot  above  the  ground,  and  came  down.  It  did  the 
horse  good,  and  made  him  careful  afterwards. 

The  next  steeplechase  of  any  note  was  at  Kempton 
early  in  April,  when  Correze  was  second  to  Abyssinian 
in  the  Twickenham  Steeplechase.  That  race  was  lost 
by  one  of  those  little  chances  which  rarely  get  recorded 
in  the  press  reports,  because  they  are  not  noticed. 
Abyssinian  was  going  very  unkindly,  and  he  would 
have  certainly  gone  clean  into  the  middle  of  the  brook, 
if  it  had  not  been  a  mere  splash,  and  have  probably 
finished  up  the  race  there  had  I  not  come  up  along- 
side, which  helped  to  keep  him  straight.  He  then 
got  out  of  his  difficulties.  Dollery,  who  was  up  on 
Abyssinian,  saw  how  well  I  had  served  him  by 
accident,  and  said  afterwards,  *'  You  gave  me  that 
race,  Sir  Claude." 

The  same  week  Correze  was  tried  again  at  Lingfield, 
but  was  not  placed  in  the  Lingfield  Grand  National, 
won  by  Excelsior.  He  had  not  fully  recovered  from 
a  slight  touch  of  the  influenza,  which  attacks  horses 
sometimes  as  it  does  their  riders.  This  race  told 
me  something,  as  it  enabled  me  to  about  gauge 
The  Primate's  form,  which  came  in  useful  later  in 
the  year. 

Bewicke,  Dollery,  and  I  rode  down  to  the  post  just 
before  this  race,  and  commenting  on  Dollery 's  success 
in  the  Grand  National  on  Cloister,  Bewicke  said, 
*'  By  the  way,  I  was  the  first  to  tell  you  that  you'd 
won  that  race."     "  Were  you  indeed,  sir  ?  "    quoth 


TO  EGYPT  AND  BACK  AGAIN    239 

Dollery  ;  "  well  now,  I  recollect  I  did  hear  somebody 
lialloaing  out,  and  could  not  think  where  the  sounds 
came  from."  Bewicke  had  been  shouting  out  from 
underneath  his  horse.  The  Primate,  quite  forgetful  of 
his  fall  in  the  excitement  of  the  race. 

At  Woodbridge,  on  April  19,  1893,  the  ground  was 
so  hard  that  for  once  in  a  way  it  was  actually  neces- 
sary to  decline  mounts.  This  was  done  not  so  much 
out  of  regard  for  my  own  safety,  but  for  that  of  two 
horses.  Sprig  of  Myrtle  and  Robert  Dudley,  which 
had  been  brought  down  for  me  to  ride.  They  were 
accordingly  sent  back  to  Ipswich  for  the  Chases  to 
be  held  there  a  few  days  later. 

On  April  20  Correze  won  easily  enough  in  the  Open 
Military  Steeplechase  in  the  Household  Brigade  meet- 
ing at  Hawthorn  Hill.  He  started  favourite — six  to 
four  on — and  was  well  in,  carrying  11  st.  4  lbs.  against 
Lord  Tullibardine's  Mazzard,  13  st.  3  lbs.  (ridden  by 
owner),  and  Mr.  Tilney's  Willoughby,  12  st.  7  lbs., 
ridden  by  Captain  Milner.  At  the  same  time,  two 
miles  was  not  the  proper  distance  for  Correze.  He 
has  always  essentially  been  a  stayer.  On  March  10 
of  the  same  year,  I  rode  him  over  a  two-mile  course 
at  Sandown  in  the  Open  Handicap  Steeplechase,  won 
by  Tenby.  In  this  race  we  knocked  out  a  prominent 
G.  N.  candidate,  Sarsfield,  who  was  served  up  a  hot 
favourite,  but  had  apparently  lost  all  form. 

An  incident  that  reminds  one  rather  of  the  kind 
of  judging  one  looked  for  in  India,  when  I  was  steeple- 
chasing  and  racing  there,  occurred  at  Ipswich  on 
April  21,  1893.  I  was  riding  Robert  Dudley  for  Mr. 
Loftus  le  Champion.  He  had  backed  the  horse  for 
a  small  sum  for  a  place,  and  had  been  so  fortunate 


240  FOETY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

as  to  get  a  very  good  price,  something  like  five  to 
one.     White  Heather — owner  up — was  first ;   Candy- 
tuft,  second ;    and  Robert  Dudley  came  in  third, 
having  fallen  at  the  water  jump.     He  was  a  hundred 
and  fifty  yards  or  thereabouts  behind  the  second 
horse.     But  the  judge  left  his  box,  and  consequently 
Robert  Dudley  was  not  given  a  place,  though  he  was 
third.     I  remonstrated,  but  it  was  of  no  avail,  and 
Mr.  le  Champion  not  only  did  not  receive,  but  actually 
had  to  pay  !     It  was  an  act  of  culpable  carelessness. 
I  went  into  the  judge's  box  myself  after  the  race, 
and  found  that  one  could  see  easily  as  far  as  Nacton 
corner.     Now  Robert  Dudley  had  passed  that  point 
long  before  the  winning  horse  passed  the  post,  so 
there  was  really  no  excuse  whatever  for  not  awarding 
him  the  place  he  had  fairly  won.     It  need  hardly  be 
said  that  it  was  merely  an  act  of  carelessness  on  the 
part  of  the  judge,  but  it  was  an  undeniably  gross  one. 
A  pretty  uproar  there  would  have  been  if  the  public 
money  had  been  on  the  horse  to  any  extent.     That 
day  I  was  not  altogether  displeased  to  see  a  horse 
disqualified.     The  owner  had  asked  me  to  ride  for 
him  some  time  previously,  but  said  he  could  not  find 
me.     As  I  had  ridden  in  the  previous  race,  the  excuse 
was  somewhat  lame.     The  jockey,  not  having  walked 
round  the  course,  missed  a  fence,  and  so  the  good 
thing  fell  through. 


CHAPTER   IX 

MORE   SPORT  IN   SPAIN 

The  racing  memory,  unlike  the  political,  is  not  by 
any  means  notorious  for  its  shortness,  so  that  there 
is  no  need  to  do  anything  but  skim  very  lightly  over 
the  history  of  steeplechasing  during  the  remainder 
of  this  and  the  next  two  seasons.  April  1893  was 
one  of  the  driest  on  record,  and  the  ground  was  like 
iron.  I  took  part  in  no  more  cross-country  sport 
till  the  autumn,  when  there  fell  to  my  lot  a  win  or 
two  in  a  few  events,  such  as  the  Army  and  Navy 
Steeplechase  at  Hawthorn  Hill — Correze's  second  win 
there — and  Dormans  Steeplechase  at  Lingfield.  At 
Hawthorn  Hill,  Correze  got  the  better  of  Father 
O'Flynn,  ridden  by  Mr.  C.  Grenfell  the  owner,  and 
of  Emin,  who  started  favourite,  also  ridden  by  his 
owner,  Lord  Molyneux. 

The  biggest  events  in  steeplechasing,  even  including 
the  Grand  National,  are,  despite  the  undoubted  popu- 
larity of  the  sport,  mere  drops  in  the  ocean  compared 
with  the  monster  prizes  to  be  won  on  the  flat.  My 
own  mounts  have  rarely  brought  me  in  anything 
over  two  figures,  so  that  December  9,  1893,  the  date 
of  the  Great  Sandown  Steeplechase  which  Correze 
won,  was  quite  a  red-letter  day  in  my  calendar.  Even 
here  the  stakes  are  not  excessive,  but  the  event  is  a 

241  16 


242  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

big  one  in  its  way,  and  what  was  particularly  satis- 
factory about  the  winning  of  it,  from  my  point  of 
view,  was  the  fact  that  the  Prince  of  Wales,  as  the 
late  King  was  then,  cordially  congratulated  me  on 
my  success.  His  Royal  Highness  was  present  at  the 
dinner  given  by  the  Sports'  Club  to  Lord  Dunraven, 
and  spoke  to  me  most  kindly  about  the  race.  It 
was  permissible  to  remind  the  Prince  that  I  had  once 
had  the  honour  of  training  in  his  old  stable,  namely, 
that  of  Jack  Jones. 

The  Primate,  carrying  12  st.  7  lbs.,  and  ridden  by 
Bewicke,  started  rather  a  warm  favourite.  Correze, 
with  10  st.  13  lbs.,  was  backed  at  nine  to  two — Fairy 
Queen  was  second  favourite — but  I  believed  him  to 
be  better  than  Primate  at  the  weights,  as  I  had  had 
some  opportunities  of  judging,  and  was  not  much 
surprised,  therefore,  at  the  result.  Then  Primate  did 
not  behave  over  well  in  the  race,  swerving  at  the  first 
fence,  and  never  jumping  too  well.  Correze,  on  the 
other  hand,  jumped  well,  and  stayed  well.  Before 
the  last  fence  was  negotiated,  Correze  had  the  favour- 
ite nicely  settled,  and  Fairy  Queen  being  unable  to 
stay  home  in  the  run  in,  he  won  by  a  couple  of  lengths. 
Correze,  after  this,  began  to  be  talked  of  a  good  deal 
for  the  Grand  National ;  but  a  break-down  in  training 
later  on  robbed  him  of  the  great  chance  he  would 
otherwise  have  had  in  that  classic  steeplechase. 

Of  all  the  smart  steeplechasing  performances  I 
have  ever  seen — and  their  name  is  legion — not  one 
surpasses  Bewicke 's  in  this  race.  Glancing  round, 
one  espied  Primate  down  at  the  fence  by  the  pay- 
gate.  He  looked  to  me,  in  the  hasty  glance  which 
I  was  able  to  take,  stretched  out  almost  spread-eagle 


MOKE    SPORT  IN   SPAIN  243 

fashion  on  the  ground.  Yet  the  rider  never  lost  his 
seat,  and  scarcely  had  the  cry  of  a  fall  gone  forth 
amongst  the  spectators,  than  he  had  Primate  up 
again,  and  was  pressing  Correze  hard,  having  only 
lost  a  few  lengths  by  the  mishap.  It  seemed,  and  it 
actually  was,  a  marvellous  achievement  of  Bewicke's. 
No  one  with  knowledge  of  steeplechasing,  who  saw 
the  incident,  can  ever  forget  it. 

The  Sportsman,  in  commenting  on  Correze 's  win 
in  the  race,  referred  to  his  rider  in  tones  so  eulogistic 
that  my  native  modesty  quite  prevents  me  repro- 
ducing them  here  !  But  there  was  one  passage  in 
the  article  in  question  which  was  so  much  to  the 
point,  and  so  true,  that  it  may  be  well  quoted  for  the 
guidance  of  young  and  ambitious  riders  ;  "  His  vic- 
tory is,  in  my  humble  opinion,  a  salutary  example 
for  the  younger  division  who  are  not  unfrequently 
lacking  in  go.  .  .  .  Practical  horsemen  are  well 
aware  that  race-riding  over  a  country  or  hurdles  is 
impossible  except  for  a  man  who  is  thoroughly  fit 
and  constantly  taking  riding  exercise.  But  the 
modern  Sybarite  is  far  too  apt  to  luxuriate,  and  try 
to  ride  at  Sandown  upon  occasions,  when,  as  almost 
invariably  happens,  he  makes  a  lamentable  show, 
and  then,  forsooth,  complains  if  he  is  criticized  in 
the  papers.  These  gentlemen  should  understand 
that  when  they  get  up  to  ride  at  a  gate-money  meeting 
they  olfer  their  performances  as  value  for  the  public's 
money,  and  are  therefore  most  legitimate  objects  of 
criticism.  If  they  would  but  make  themselves  fit 
to  ride — if  they  want  to  ride — as  Sir  Claude  de 
Crespigny  does,  we  should  have  a  better  prospect, 
and  be  spared  that  terrible  barrenness  of  soldier  riders, 


244  FOETY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

which  was  marked  when  that  good  horse  Partisan 
could  not  run  at  Sandown  because  there  was  no 
soldier  capable  of  riding  him/'  Without  going  the 
length  of  this  somewhat  severe  criticism  of  our 
soldier  riders,  it  may  be  readily  conceded  that 
the  reference  to  men  who  try  to  ride  without 
keeping  themselves  in  the  proper  condition  is  quite 
justifiable. 

Throughout  the  winter  season  of  1893  and  '94, 
there  was  abundance  of  riding  for  me  at  several 
meetings  in  the  South,  such  as  Hurst  Park,  Kempton, 
Portsmouth,  and  Bury  St.  Edmunds.  At  the  last- 
named  I  met  my  old  friend  the  Duke  of  Hamilton, 
with  whom  I  have  in  days  long  past  had  many  a 
pleasant  revel,  for  the  last  time  on  or  of!  a  racecourse. 
He  gave  me  a  lift  in  his  special.  It  seems  but  yester- 
day that  I  saw  his  Grace,  "  the  Mate,"  and  C.  Blanton 
(their  trainer)  chatting  cheerily  on  Stockbridge  race- 
course. "  All,  all  are  gone — the  old  familiar  faces  !  " 
"  Angus,"  as  he  was  always  called  by  his  intimates, 
was  one  of  the  kindest-hearted  of  men,  and  his 
loss  will  be  deeply  felt  round  Easton.  The  cheers 
which  invariably  went  up  when  the  cerise  and 
French  grey  caught  the  judge's  eye  in  the  van 
showed  ^how  he  was  appreciated  by  sport-loving 
Britons. 

A  bloodless  victory  was  mine  on  Badminton  at 
Hurst  Park  on  January  3, 1894,  when  the  horse  ridden 
by  Oates,  my  single  opponent,  bolted  before  the  start. 
The  brute  actually  ran  four  and  a  half  miles  before 
the  jockey  regained  control  over  him,  and  was  then 
totally  unfit  to  do  any  more  racing  that  day.  So 
Badminton  was  permitted  to  walk  over. 


MORE    SPORT   IN   SPAIN  245 

Perishingly  cold,  by  the  way,  was  that  third  of 
January.  The  ground  was  so  hard,  moreover,  that 
very  few  jockeys  would  think  of  riding.  Of  course  I 
had  to  wait  at  the  starting-post  with  Arthur  Coventry 
whilst  Star  in  the  East  went  through  this  performance. 
Before  long  my  hands  got  so  numbed  that  it  was 
difficult  to  keep  hold  of  the  reins.  Seeing  this,  the 
starter,  with  real  good-nature  and  self-sacrifice,  lent 
me  his  gloves.  What  sort  of  weather  it  was  may  be 
judged  by  the  fact  that  on  the  following  morning  the 
thermometer  showed  something  like  nine  degrees 
below  zero  in  an  exposed  place. 

We  were  offered  seventeen  hundred  pounds  for 
Correze  in  Feb.  1894,  just  before  his  running  second 
to  Nellie  Gray  in  the  Prince  of  Wales'  Steeplechase 
at  Sandown.  I  could  not  do  better  in  this  race  than 
leave  Van  der  Berg  behind  ;  but  next  month  Correze 
ran  prominently  in  the  Grand  International  at  San- 
down till  he  pulled  up  lame  after  going  two  miles — a 
great  disappointment. 

Early  in  1895  the  opportunity  offered  of  once  more 
turning  for  sport  to  Spain.  I  formed  one  of  a  jovial 
little  party,  and  had  a  great  time  in  the  land  which, 
though  little  known  to  sportsmen,  has  turned  out 
nevertheless  a  very  paradise  to  the  few  who  have 
been  fortunate  enough  to  enjoy  shooting  and  fishing 
over  the  best  preserved  ground  and  water.  Some 
letters  which  were  written  to  a  friend  from  the 
Peninsula,  and  during  our  voyage  home,  will  perhaps 
serve  to  give  a  fair  idea  of  the  variety  and  novelty 
of  a  short  sporting  trip  in — to  use  the  words  applied 
by  Byron  to  a  contiguous  country — "  this  delicious 
land." 


246  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN^S  LIFE 

"  El  Guco,  Jerez  de  la  Frontera, 

"  Jan.  25,  1895. 

"  My  Dear  D 

"  After  a  rough  passage  to  Gibraltar,  and 
another  to  Cadiz  via  Tangiers,  we  have  duly  arrived 
at  Don  Pedro's,  who  has  not  only  received  us  with 
princely  hospitality,  but  has  also  given  us  a  suite 
of  four  rooms  overlooking  the  Bull-ring  and  the 
Alcazar  of  the  Duke  of  San  Lorenzo,  besides  providing 
us  with  a  great  variety  of  amusements  prior  to  our 
starting  on  Monday  for  the  Palaccio  de  Oiiana,  the 
Comte  de  Medina  Sidonia's  hunting-seat  in  the  Goto, 
which  marches  with  the  big  preserves  of  the  Comtesse 
de  Paris.  The  Goto  has  an  area  of  two  hundred  and 
fifty  square  miles,  so  that  each  gun  requires  two 
horses.  Don  Pedro's  stable  is  full  of  nags,  and  we 
have  been  trying  which  we  shall  select  for  our  trip. 
Dinner-parties,  dances,  a  masked  ball,  lawn-tennis, 
pigeon-shooting,  hunting,  etc.,  made  our  stay  very 
pleasant ;  but  best  of  all,  Don  Guillermo  Garvey, 
the  owner  of  the  finest  stud  in  this  part  of  Spain,  if 
not  in  the  whole  country,  has  placed  his  horses  at 
my  disposal.  My  riding  opportunities  are  therefore 
unlimited,  and  my  knees  already  as  raw  as  mutton- 
chops.  To-morrow  I  am  going  to  school  Lindo — a 
grandson  of  the  Duke  of  Hamilton's  flying  Leonie — 
whom  I  shall  hope  to  ride  in  the  big  steeplechase  at 
Madrid,  over  a  country  adjoining  the  Jerez  race- 
course. After  the  ride  we  intend  trying  for  a  lot 
of  snipe,  which  we  flushed  out  hunting  this  afternoon. 
I  am  also  in  hopes  of  getting  mounts  at  Gadiz,  Jerez, 
San  Lucar,  and  Seville.  Wild  Spain,  by  Ghapman 
and  Buck,  gives  a  capital  account  of  the  Goto  shoot. 

"  Yours,  C.  G.  DE  C." 


MORE    SPORT    IN   SPAIN  247 

"  El  Cuco,  Feb.  n,  1895. 

"  Yesterday  we  did  our  pigeon-shooting.  In  the 
big  prize — two  Spanish  horses — I  had  bad  luck,  three 
of  my  birds  falling  dead  just  out  of  bounds.  How- 
ever, I  won  the  next  sweep  in  a  field  of  thirteen,  and 
then  failed  in  two  others.  There  were  only  four  birds 
left,  and  the  light  had  become  so  bad  that  we  could 
barely  see  the  traps.     I  was  in  favour  of  stopping, 

but  O'S asked  me  to  shoot  for  him  against  their 

two  crack  shots.  I  consented,  and  shot  first.  My 
bird — a  white  one — went  up  like  a  rocket,  and  I  got 
him  with  my  second  barrel  against  the  sky.  The 
others  were  much  less  fortunate,  getting  dark,  low- 
flying  birds  that  went  straight  away  like  rabbits ; 
so  not  unnaturally  they  missed.  Thus  the  shekels 
became  '  Colorado's,'  as  we  now  call  him. 

"  The  name  arose  this  way.  The  keepers  cannot 
pronounce  our  names,  so  adopt  their  own  nomen- 
clature, and  as  the  glare  and  constant  exposure  have 
made  O'S.'s  jolly  old  face  as  red  as  the  rising  sun, 
they  have  dubbed  him  '  Colorado.'     I  am  *  El  Baron.' 

We  were  rather  amused  the  other  day.     O'S had 

just  shot  a  stag,  a  fine  beast,  when  one  beater  asked 
another  to  whose  gun  it  had  fallen.  *  Rubio's,'  was 
the  reply.  We  arrived  at  the  Palaccio  after  dark, 
and  at  dinner  a  voluntary  sweepstake  of  from  one 
to  five  dollars  was  agreed  upon  for  each  beast  shot 
with  ball — stag,  boar,  lynx,  or  fox.  I  barred  paying 
or  receiving  over  the  last-named,  but  consented  to 
shoot  them,  as  they  do  undoubtedly  destroy  many 
fawns  and  young  pigs.  I  don't  know  whether  you 
are  going  to  publish  this,  but  if  so,  trust  it  won't  be 
welcomed  as  a  damaging  admission  on  the  part  of 


248  FOKTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

an  ardent  fox-hunter  by  enemies  of  Reynard  at  home. 
You  recollect  that  tale  Townsend  told  us  the  other 
day  in  Essex,  about  the  farmer  who  was  ready  to 
swear  that  owing  to  a  dog-fox  getting  into  the  pen, 
half  the  young  lambs  were  born  with  fox  heads  !  But 
to  return  to  Spain.  A  fox  did  come  racing  past  me, 
so,  hardening  my  heart,  I  put  a  ball  from  my  smooth- 
bore behind  his  shoulder,  dropping  him  in  his  tracks. 
At  that  moment,  by  way  of  judgment,  a  noble  stag 
trotted  by  on  my  other  side.  To  drop  my  gun  and 
pick  up  a  Reilly  Express  took  but  little  time,  but 
instead  of  a  steady  broadside,  it  was  a  more  hurried 
and  diagonal  one  :  result,  a  miss,  profanity,  and  a 
spirit  of  dejection.  Luckily  I  shortly  afterwards  got 
a  ten-pointer.  .  .  .  Nine  hinds  had  passed  me,  when 
at  length  I  espied  a  stag.  I  was  outside  gun,  and  he 
was  just  outside  the  pine- wood  over  seventy  yards 
off,  with  very  uneven  ground  between  us,  so  that  his 
head,  neck,  and  top  of  shoulder  were  alone  visible. 
I  heard  my  bullet  strike  home,  and  saw  the  hinds 
going  off  without  him,  so  concluded  it  was  all  right. 
On  going  up  after  the  beat,  there  he  lay,  the  bullet 
having  entered  just  behind  the  ear,  and  fractured 
the  base  of  the  skull/* 

"  El  Cuco,  Feb.  14,  1895. 

"  We  leave  here  on  Monday  for  Gibraltar,  driving 
by  special  diligence  from  St.  Fernando  to  Algiers, 
and  take  Orient  boat  on  Tuesday  for  England,  arriving 
in  London  probably  on  Saturday.  There  was  a  ball 
here  to-night,  and  one  close  by  yesterday  after  some 
theatricals,  through  which  I  slept  profoundly  ;  in 
fact  they  do  say  that  I  snored  so  loud  that  two  friends 


MORE   SPORT   IN    SPAIN  249 

led  me  from  the  room  to  an  adjoining  one,  where  I 
lost  gloves  to  the  belle  of  Jerez. 

"  There  is  an  old  custom  much  appreciated  at  Goto, 
and  that  is  crowning  a  man  who  has  killed  his  first 
stag,  either  at  the  Palaccio,  or  Marismilla.  A  crown 
composed  of  paper  and  forest  flowers  is  made,  and 
placed  on  his  head  by  the  local  beauty.  The  success- 
ful sportsman  sits  in  a  chair  of  state,  and  the  beauty 
having  crowned  him,  the  musicians  with  their  man- 
dolines, playing  the  Royal  March,  head  a  procession 

comprising  Don  P 's  army  of  retainers  and  all 

their  women  folks.  Then  the  fun  commences,  and 
sevillanas  and  songs  last  till  the  small  hours,  the 
women  being  provided  with  wine  and  cake,  and  the 
men  with  wine  and  cigars.  Both  males  and  females, 
the  latter  playing  castanets,  dance  with  considerable 
grace,  and  much  delight  the  onlookers. 

"  When  '  Colorado's  ' — '  Rubito  '  (little  fair  one) 
a  woman  called  him  yesterday  in  Seville — turn  came, 
he  was  splendid,  his  good-humoured  face  smiling  all 
over — the  sun  and  unlimited  '47  Solera,  which  we 
drank  like  water,  had  made  it  mahogany-coloured — 
with  a  Henry  Clay  Sobremesa,  as  big  as  a  spinnaker- 
boom,  in  his  mouth,  and  his  crown  worn  like  a  forage 
cap.  His  head  being  swollen  by  mosquito-bites,  he 
looked  a  perfect  picture  of  King  Cole.  At  the  finish 
the  procession  departs  as  it  entered,  playing  the  Royal 
March.  On  our  last  day  ladies  joined  us  from  Jerez, 
one  of  whom  shared  my  butt  during  the  two  drives 
she  was  with  us  in  order  to  see  the  sport.  Twelve 
hinds,  two  fawns,  and  a  stag  passed  us.  I  got  the 
stag,  though  he  did  not  fall  to  the  gun.  He  was  a 
long  shot,  and  had  both  bullets  through  him,  but 


250  FOETY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

a  bit  far  back  and  low.  He  crossed  a  lagoon,  where 
a  dog  bayed  him.  We  followed,  horse  and  foot,  but 
before  we  got  up  he  broke  his  bay,  when  we  were 
obliged  to  race  our  hacks  to  our  felucca  on  the  Guadal- 
quiver,  in  order  not  to  miss  the  train  to  Bonanza. 
However,  Manuel  the  keeper  tracked  this  wounded 
stag  for  three  miles,  and  finally  secured  him.  During 
our  first  drive,  an  officer  of  the  French  Cuirassiers, 
who  accompanied  the  ladies,  not  only  fired  at  hinds 
whenever  he  had  a  chance,  but  also  down  the  line, 
which  was  quite  contrary  to  regulation.  His  first 
shot  whistled  just  over  our  heads,  whilst  the  second 
struck  a  tree  very  near  us.  It  was  lucky  that  his 
other  cartridges  misfired. 

**  One  day  Pepe  Larios,  a  keeper,  and  I  had  rather 
a  good  gallop  after  an  ape  which  was  to  be  turned 
down,  but  which  got  away  with  a  chain  and  collar. 
Pepe  had  a  hog-spear,  and  tried,  but  unsuccessfully, 
to  pin  the  chain  to  the  ground.  We  eventually 
pumped  our  quarry,  who  ran  under  a  low  pine-bush. 
I  jumped  of?  the  faithful  Saturno  (who  has  carried 
me  for  so  many  miles,  and  whom  I  saw  again  to-day 
apparently  none  the  worse  for  all  his  hard  work),  and 
gripped  the  chain,  whilst  Pepe  slipped  his  long  Jerez 
knife  under  the  collar,  and  set  him  at  liberty.'" 

"  S.S.  *  Himalaya,'  Feb.  20,  1895. 

"  We  left  Gib.  yesterday,  and  are  having  a  fine 
passage,  so,  bar  accidents,  may  expect  to  reach 
Plymouth  on  Friday  morning,  and  Tilbury  about 
noon  on  Saturday.  On  Sunday  we  had  a  day  at 
the  bustard,  and  found  great  quantities,  but  un- 
happily they  flew  too  high.     Our  party,  including 


MORE   SPORT   IN   SPAIN  251 

one  lady,  started  at  8  a.m.  for  a  point  about  fifteen 

miles  from  the  Cuco,  and  Don  P drove  a  team 

with  a  party  of  ladies  to  lunch,  which  we  thoroughly 
enjoyed  on  a  hillside  in  most  perfect  weather.  Riding 
to  our  last  drive  I  came  across  a  dead  snake,  not 
killed,  so  far  as  I  know,  by  one  of  our  party.  This 
was  only  the  second  I'd  come  across,  the  other  being 
in  the  Goto  ;  Jose  followed  its  track  in  the  sand,  and 
halved  it  with  his  big  knife. 

"  It  was  getting  dark  when  W killed  his  first 

bustard.  Benitez,  his  shikari,  is  considered  the  best 
bustard  hunter  in  the  Jerez  district.  He  has  an 
exceptionally  fine  collection  of  eggs,  and  I  should 
think  could  supply  collectors  with  rare  specimens 
at  a  moderate  price. 

"  Our  nags  had  done  a  hard  day's  work  in  the 
deepest  of  ground,  and  we  were  many  miles  from 
home.  I  and  a  companion,  being  merciful  to  our 
beasts,  lagged  so  far  behind  that  one  of  the  party 
came  back  to  ascertain  whether  an  accident  had 
occurred,  or  we  had  been  tackled  by  anarchists,  who 
are  pretty  numerous  just  now,  owing  in  some  degree, 
no  doubt,  to  the  fact  that  the  recent  heavy  rains 
have  thrown  many  men  out  of  work.  Not  long  since 
four  were  garroted  in  the  big  square.  It  was  with  a 
certain  relief  that  at  8  p.m.,  after  a  very  long  day,  I 
led  Saturno  up  to  the  stables,  where  he  had  a  well- 
earned  rest ;  to  my  surprise  he  had  all  his  shoes  on. 
When  at  daybreak  next  day  I  went  roimd  to  bid 
the  horse  farewell,  it  seemed  like  parting  with  an 
old  friend.  Our  return  was  welcomed  by  frantic 
bounds  and  barks  by  gallant  little  Vampiro.  The 
dog  received  no  less  than  twenty-one  wounds  from 


252  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

a  boar,  whilst  defending  his  master,  Don  P ,  who 

was  on  his  back  fighting  with  heels  and  fists,  till  at 
length  when  all  but  exhausted  he  got  the  brute  by 
the  hind  legs,  and  threw  him  on  his  side.  Luckily 
Juanillo  came  up  in  time  to  hang  on  to  the  boar, 
whilst  Don  P —  slipped  his  knife  into  him,  and 
so  ended  a  desperate  encounter.  Poor  little  Vam- 
piro's  entrails  were  out,  and  his  life  was  despaired 
of.  However,  the  wounded  canine  hero  was  sewn 
up,  and,  marvellous  to  relate,  recovered.  He  is  now 
an  honoured  pensioner,  but  is  never  allowed  to  go 
to  the  Goto,  for  they  are  sure  he  would  be  as  willing 
to  give  his  life  in  defence  of  his  beloved  master,  should 
occasion  arise,  in  the  future  as  he  was  in  the  past.  That 
boar's  head  is  the  first  trophy  of  the  chase  which 
catches  your  eye  in  the  entrance-hall  of  the  '  Cuco.' 

"  Juanillo  is  the  finest  specimen  of  a  Spanish  forest- 
keeper  I  ever  came  across.  He  is  always  ready  with 
his  dogs  (only  two  or  three  mongrels)  to  tackle  any 
boar  on  foot.  To  watch  his  opportunity,  have  the 
boar  by  the  hind  legs  on  his  side,  and  a  knife  into  his 
ribs,  lungs,  or  heart,  is  the  work  of  an  instant.  It 
is  not  difficult  to  guess  the  penalty  of  failure  with 
an  old  tusker.  The  other  day,  when  the  boar  was 
on  foot,  it  was  a  refreshing  sight  to  see  Juanillo  slip 
off  his  mule  and  keep  abreast  of  the  dogs,  watching 
his  opportunity  to  dash  into  the  jungle  the  moment 
the  quarry  was  bayed.  When  one  looked  at  that 
simple  brave  forester,  and  recollected  some  of  the 
feeble  specimens  of  manhood  that  are  to  be  seen 
crawling  about  Piccadilly  and  Regent  Street,  a  feeling 
of  contempt  and  indignation  arose,  impossible  to 
suppress. 


MORE   SPORT   IN   SPAIN  253 

"  The  pace  was  pretty  warm  in  the  above-mentioned 
run,  and  no  less  than  three  guns  were  in  jeopardy  of 
being  lost.  First  I  jumped  over  a  gallant  Colonel's 
gun — as  he  wore  an  eye-glass  he  was  dubbed  by  the 
keepers  '  Looking-glass  '  (in  Spanish)  ;  then  I  saw 
'  Colorado's  '  second  horseman  with  his  gun  turn  end 
over  end  on  his  horse.     After  killing  the  boar,  Don 

Pablo  D on  looking  into  his  bucket  found  it 

empty  ;  but  that  keen  sportsman,  Delme  Radcliffe, 
rode  his  heel  line  back  for  three-quarters  of  a  mile 
and  recovered  the  gun. 

"  On  Monday  we  left  by  an  early  train  for  San 
Fernando — both  direct  boat  and  train  service  with 
Gibraltar  having  broken  down — and  where  a  special 
diligence  was  awaiting  us.  With  five  mixed  teams 
of  horses  and  mules  we  covered  the  fifty-eight  miles 
to  Algeciras  in  under  ten  hours,  the  usual  time  being 
fifteen.  The  roads  here  and  there  were  awful — com- 
posed of  soft  deep  clay  with  pine  boughs  stretched 
across  ;  but  the  main  part  of  the  distance  would  have 
been  fairly  sound  travelling  had  it  not  been  for  occa- 
sional large  holes,  which  not  only  jolted  the  vehicle 
till  it  nearly  capsized,  but  strained  the  springs  to 
their  utmost.  The  country  between  San  Fernando 
and  Algeciras  is  decidedly  varied.  At  the  start  many 
parts  reminded  one  of  the  Coto  ;  then  the  lake  oppo- 
site Mariana  and  the  mountains  beyond  recalled 
memories  of  Switzerland. 

"  Both  '  Colorado  '  and  I  agreed  that  never  again, 
if  it  could  be  avoided,  would  we  make  a  forced  march 
by  diligence,  as  the  cruelty  of  the  driver  and  his 
assistant,  who  keeps  jumping  off  to  flog,  and  prod 
with  a  pointed  stick,  the  unfortunate  team,  passes 


254  FOKTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

credulity.  It  only  confirmed  my  oft-expressed  belief 
that  to  be  killed,  even  if  death  was  not  immediate, 
in  the  bull-ring,  is  kindness  itself  compared  to  the 
sufferings  of  a  hackney  horse  in  Spain.  Take,  for 
instance,  our  last  team  from  Tarifa  to  Algeciras,  the 
most  severe  stage  of  our  journey.  These  were  the 
most  ragged  lot  of  the  five,  consisting  of  three  mules 
and  three  horses  ;  all  had  been  down,  and  were  galled 
all  over.  At  starting  the  team  could  scarcely  move, 
despite  the  free  application  of  stick  and  whipcord. 
Long  before  reaching  our  destination  the  galls  on 
each  wretched  beast  of  burden  had  become  open 
wounds,  and  woe  betide  the  animal  that  stumbled  ; 
when  the  near  leader  did  so,  and  cut  open  his  already 
blemished  near  fetlock,  it  passed  our  comprehension 
how  he  recovered,  and  was  able  to  continue  the  hor- 
rible journey.  Having  knocked  the  piratical  porters 
down  from  seventy-five  pesetas  to  sixty-two  and  a 
half  for  transporting  ourselves  and  baggage  about 
three  hundred  yards  to  our  launch,  for  which  ten 
would  have  been  ample  remuneration,  we  steamed 
over  to  Gibraltar,  where  Delme  Radcliffe,  the  worthy 
scion  of  a  fine  old  sporting  stock,  hospitably  enter- 
tained us  at  a  farewell  dinner  at  the  Bristol.  This 
Delme  is  a  grandson  of  the  author  of  that  noble  work 
on  fox-hunting,  and,  you  will  recollect,  near  relatives 
of  his  lived  in  the  Tedworth  country.  The  hospitality 
and  kindness  we  received  at  Jerez  were  quite  beyond 
praise.  '  See  Naples  and  die  !  '  What  nonsense  ! 
*  See  Jerez  and  live  !  '  is  much  more  to  the  point." 

After  my  return  from  Spain  I  availed  myself  of 
such  opportunities  as  arose  for  steeplechasing  in  the 


MORE   SPORT    IN   SPAIN  255 

spring.  Several  good  friends  offered  me  mounts.  A 
rather  severe  attack  of  influenza,  or  something  of 
the  kind,  got  a  grip  of  me  in  March,  but  shaldng  it 
of!  without  great  difficulty  I  went  almost  straight 
from  my  bed  to  the  saddle  without  any  evil  effects, 
and  rode  in  two  steeplechases  and  a  hurdle  race  at 
the  Sports'  Club  meeting  at  Hurst  Park.  No  good 
there  ;  but  better  fortune  at  Warwick  in  May,  where 
I  won  a  race  on  Fred  Cotton's  Sophism,  a  real  good 
thing.  Curiously  enough,  Wenty  Hope  Johnstone 
and  I  scored  in  the  first  and  last  races  respectively 
of  the  Warwick  meeting.  May  10  was  rather  an 
interesting  day  from  a  family  point  of  view,  as  my 
son  and  I  were  pitted  against  one  another  in  a  match 
at  the  Plumpton  meeting.  He  had  beaten  me  in  a 
steeplechase  not  such  a  long  while  before,  but  I  had 
my  revenge  in  this  match.  Cotton's  Burgundy,  my 
mount,  started  a  very  hot  favourite,  and  indeed  my 
son  had  no  chance  whatever  on  Mr.  Erskine's  Sappho, 
who  refused  at  the  first  fence,  and  never  finished  the 
course. 

I  should  not  forget  to  mention  that  in  August 
1897  I  had  five  magnificent  days  in  the  Austrian 
Tyrol  as  the  guest  of  Prince  Bliicher.  We  were 
accompanied  by  Count  Schaffgotsche,  and  succeeded 
in  getting  forty -six  chamois.  In  subsequent  years 
I  have  had  some  grand  shooting  with  the  Prince 
at  Krieblowitz,  and  taken  part  in  the  annual  shoots 
at  neighbouring  castles. 


CHAPTER   X 

THE   BOEK   WAR 

"VTATURALLY  enough,  when  the  Boer  War  broke 
out  I  was  anxious  to  be  in  it !  My  eldest 
son  Claude  was  at  the  front  with  the  composite 
regiment  of  the  Household  Cavalry,  and  two  of  my 
other  sons,  Raul  and  Vierville,  were  about  to  follow 
him,  the  former  with  the  3rd  Battalion  of  the  2nd 
Grenadier  Guards,  to  which  he  had  just  been  gazetted, 
and  the  latter  with  the  Imperial  Yeomanry  under 
Colonel  Paget. 

I  suggested  the  idea  of  going  out  to  Lady  de 
Crespigny,  and  not  only  did  she  immediately  fall  in 
with  it  but  proposed  to  accompany  me  herself,  and 
do  a  little  nursing. 

A  few  days  before  we  sailed  I  received  the  following 
telegram  from  Claude's  regiment : 

"  Hearty  Congratulations  upon  Mr.  de  Crespigny 's 
courageous  action. 

"Armstrong,  Corporal-Major." 

At  the  time  I  was  quite  in  the  dark  as  to  what 
the  telegram  referred  to,  but  I  soon  found  out  when 
I  got  my  morning  paper.  Perhaps  it  would  not  be 
out  of  place  to  give  the  account  of  the  incident  in 

256 


THE    BOER   WAR  257 

the  words  of  the  correspondent  of  the  Mail,  who  wired 
from  Rensberg  as  follows  : 

**  During  the  advance  of  Colonel  Porter's  brigade 
on  Friday,  January  19,  a  detachment  of  the  House- 
hold Cavalry  which  formed  the  advance  guard  under 
Captain  Ferguson,  was  ordered  to  reconnoitre  the 
kopjes  to  the  north-west  of  Kleinfontein.  The  party, 
which  was  commanded  by  Lieutenant  de  Crespigny, 
had  almost  reached  the  top  of  the  kopjes,  when  it 
was  met  by  a  heavy  fire  from  the  Boers.  Trooper 
Kemp's  horse  bolted.  Trooper  Jaager  was  wounded, 
and  his  horse  ran  off.  Lieutenant  de  Crespigny, 
whose  horse  was  twice  hit,  took  that  ot  Shoeing- 
Smith  Coulson,  and  rode  back  to  save  Jaager.  The 
latter  was  too  exhausted  to  mount,  and  the  lieutenant 
bade  him  hold  on  to  the  stirrup  leather.  Meanwhile 
they  were  subjected  to  a  heavy  fire,  and  the  horse 
was  twice  wounded.  Lieutenant  de  Crespigny  then 
dismounted  and  took  the  other  stirrup,  both  men 
thus  continuing  their  retreat.  Another  trooper  then 
came  up  and  took  Jaager  behind  him  on  his  horse, 
the  lieutenant  waiting  until  Coulson  came  up  with  his 
wounded  charger.  Lieutenant  de  Crespigny 's  action 
is  spoken  of  as  one  of  the  most  distinguished  bravery." 

For  this  he  was  recommended  for  the  V.C,  a 
recommendation  which  was  lost  in  transit  between 
the  Brigadier  and  Divisional  Commander,  and  was 
subsequently  refused  by  the  Army  Council,  which 
did  not  come  into  existence  until  four  years  after- 
wards. Is  there  any  precedent,  I  wonder,  for  the 
rejection  of  a  recommendation  from  the  Commander- 
in-Chief,  supported  by  the  Divisional  Commander  ? 

17 


258  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN^S  LIFE 

I  was  naturally  glad  to  find  that  the  boy  had  had 
a  chance  of  distinguishing  himself,  and  had  not  failed 
to  make  use  of  it.  No  doubt  he  found  that  the 
experience  gained  in  steeplechases  and  in  the  hunting- 
field  came  in  useful,  and  probably  there  were  plenty 
of  others  who  found  the  same  thing.  Indeed,  as  was 
once  remarked  by  Sir  Hussey  Vivian,  who  com- 
manded the  Hussar  Brigade  at  Waterloo,  the  value  of 
sport  in  this  connection  cannot  be  over-estimated  ; 
and  men  who  have  been  good  sportsmen  at  home  are 
the  men  who  will  do  best  and  show  the  greatest 
amount  of  resource  when  on  active  service. 

The  horse  he  was  riding  at  the  time  was  "  Carlist," 
an  old  steeplechaser,  which  had  given  us  seven  falls 
in  six  steeplechases !  My  boy  had  a  very  bad 
fall  when  riding  it  at  Newmarket,  and  was  "  knocked 
out  "  for  a  long  time.  I  remember  Prince  Christian 
saying  to  me,  "  If  I  were  you.  Sir  Claude,  I  would 
either  shoot  or  sell  that  horse  !  ''  Well,  in  this  case 
he  got  a  little  of  the  shooting  that  the  Prince  suggested. 

We  sailed  for  South  Africa  on  February  3.  On  our 
arrival  at  Cape  Town  the  first  thing  I  did  was  to 
witness  a  boxing  match  !  It  was  the  middle-weight 
championship  of  South  Africa,  and  they  very  politely 
made  me  a  member  of  the  club  and  asked  me  to 
act  as  referee.  I  declined  the  invitation  to  officiate 
in  that  capacity,  as  one  of  the  pugilists  was  a  60th 
Rifleman,  but  I  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  sport,  which 
was  capital.     I  have  seldom  seen  a  closer  contest. 

To  return  to  the  war.  I  made  all  speed  to  get  to 
the  front.  Of  the  actual  fighting  I  didn't  see  as  much 
as  I  should  like  to  have  done,  I'm  sorry  to  say.  I  got 
to  Kimberley  soon  after  the  relief,  and  found  the 


THE   BOER   WAR  259 

garrison  in  a  surprisingly  cheerful  condition,  con- 
sidering all  they  had  been  through.  Lady  de  Cres- 
pigny,  by  the  way,  was  the  first  lady  to  enter  Kimber- 
ley  and  Bloemfontein.  At  Kimberley  I  stayed  at 
the  Sanatorium,  where  Cecil  Rhodes  had  also  stopped, 
which  had  been  fitted  up  as  a  redoubt.  On  March  7 
my  eldest  son  was  severely  wounded  in  the  engage- 
ment at  Poplar  Grove.  The  occurrence  was  reported 
in  the  following  dispatch  from  Lord  Roberts  : — 

"  Poplar  Grove,  March  7  (7.35  p.m.). 

"  We  have  had  a  very  successful  day  and  com- 
pletely routed  the  enemy,  who  are  in  full  retreat. 

"  The  position  they  occupied  was  extremely  strong, 
and  cunningly  arranged,  with  a  second  line  of  en- 
trenchments, which  would  have  caused  us  heavy 
loss  had  a  direct  attack  been  made. 

"  The  turning  movement  was  necessarily  wide, 
owing  to  the  nature  of  the  ground,  and  the  Cavalry 
and  Horse  Artillery  horses  are  much  done  up. 

"  The  fighting  was  practically  confined  to  the 
Cavalry  Division,  which,  as  usual,  did  exceedingly  well, 
and  French  reports  that  the  Horse  Artillery  Batteries 
did  a  great  deal  of  execution  amongst  the  enemy. 

"  Our  casualties  number  about  fifty. 

"  I  regret  to  say  that  Lieutenant  Keswick,  12th 
Lancers,  was  killed,  and  Lieutenant  Bailey,  of  the 
same  regiment,  severely  wounded.  Lieutenant  de 
Crespigny,  2nd  Life  Guards,  also  severely  wounded. 

"  The  remaining  casualties  will  be  telegraphed 
to-morrow. 

"  Generals  de  Wet  and  Delarey  were  in  command 
of  the  Boer  forces." 


260  FOETY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

Lord  Roberts  ordered  a  special  ambulance  to  take 
my  son  and  one  other  man  who  was  also  severely 
wounded  (and  subsequently  died)  to  Bloemfontein,  the 
remainder  of  the  column  being  moved  to  Kimberley. 

Lady  de  Crespigny  and  myself  shortly  afterwards 
arrived  at  Bloemfontein,  and  found  our  son  in  hospital, 
badly  hit  but  quite  cheerful. 

I  might  mention  that  Lady  de  Crespigny  and 
myself  were  granted  a  special  pass  into  Bloemfontein 
to  see  our  boy.  His  condition  for  some  days  was  ex- 
tremely critical.  Lord  Roberts  was  kindness  itself, 
and  paid  the  patient  several  visits.  He  supplied 
him  with  eggs  when  none  were  to  be  got  for  love  or 
money  ;  and  Prince  Francis  of  Teck  also  showed 
his  kindness  in  the  same  way. 

A  good  deal  has  been  said  about  the  explosive 
bullets  used  by  the  Boers,  and  there  is  no  doubt  that 
they  were  used,  and  pretty  extensively  too.  But  I 
fancy  the  explanation  lies  partly  in  the  fact  that  many 
of  the  Boers  who  had  been  commandeered  for  service 
brought  with  them  the  same  cartridges  which  they 
had  been  in  the  habit  of  using  when  hunting — these 
being  of  an  expansive  character.  As  to  their  having 
fired  upon  the  white  flag,  I  must  confess  to  having 
seen  shells  falling  among  the  ambulance  wagons  at 
the  Modder  River.  It  is  the  sort  of  thing  one  doesn't 
easily  forget. 

I  brought  home  with  me  a  good  many  trophies  of 
the  campaign  of  one  kind  and  another.  One  of  these 
was  a  cartridge  wrapper  which  I  picked  up  in  the 
Boer  trenches,  which  bore  the  following  inscription  : 

"  1°  cart  S.A.     Ball  for  the  Martini-Henry  Rifle, 


THE   BOER   WAR  261 

or  machine  gun,  Ely  Bros.,  Ltd.,  London,"  showing 
that  in  some  cases  the  enemy  were  actually  potting 
our  men  with  our  own  cartridges. 

I  saw  an  incident  at  Bloemf ontein  which  showed  the 
sort  of  stuff  the  Naval  Brigade  were  made  of.  Early 
one  morning  in  the  great  square,  I  met  the  big 
naval  guns,  each  dragged  by  thirty-two  oxen.  They 
were  led  by  mounted  naval  officers,  with  a  variety 
of  royal  yard  and  spinnaker  boom  seats,  and  escorted 
by  blue  jackets  with  the  usual  breezy  roll  which 
passes  muster  for  marching  when  they  are  ashore. 
I  hardly  had  time  to  walk  half  a  mile  up  a  hill  to 
visit  a  wounded  Grenadier,  when  these  veritable 
"  handy  ''  men  had  run  the  heavy  ordnance  up  a 
high  kopje,  and  were  sitting  at  ease  ready  to  defend 
the  town  like  the  grand  watch-dogs  they  are  ;  and 
it  must  be  remembered  that  the  enemy  were  pretty 
close  at  the  time. 

But  every  branch  of  the  forces  was  doing  good 
work,  in  spite  of  the  stay-at-home  critics,  for  some 
of  whom  one  can  have  nothing  but  contempt.  I 
wonder  what  these  same  critics  would  have  felt  if 
they  had  actually  been  at  Magersfontein,  where  there 
was  such  a  terrible  loss  among  the  Highlanders — as  the 
Boers  caught  them  in  quarter  column  before  they  had 
time  to  open  out  into  loose  formation.  They  would 
probably  have  died  of  sheer  "  funk  "  where  they  stood. 

A  little  "  live  "  experience  would  have  done  these 
critics  good.  They  might  have  discovered  that  the 
open  veldt  opposite  Boer  earthworks  is  no  great 
catch  when  it  is  as  dark  as  a  wolf's  throat,  with  a 
fusillade  of  rain  striking  you  from  the  clouds  and 
another  of  Mauser  bullets  from  the  trenches. 


262  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

All  this  talk  by  the  stay-at-home  critics  about 
"  feather-bed "  soldiers  was  just  so  much  silly 
nonsense.  I  had  lunch  with  the  Duke  of  Teck  about 
eight  miles  from  Bloemfontein,  and  he  was  living 
on  the  commonest  rations.  As  a  great  surprise  there 
was  a  hot  cake  to  finish  up  with.  It  was  a  curious 
sort  of  cake,  made  by  the  Duke's  soldier  servant. 
The  Duke  had  himself  been  taught  how  to  make  it 
by  an  old  Boer  woman  who  took  a  great  fancy  to  him 
at  T'bancho,  and  had  passed  the  information  on  to 
his  servant,  apparently  with  rather  indifferent  results. 
All  we  had  to  drink  was  cocoa  ;  there  was  no  wine 
or  spirits.  Another  time  I  came  across  the  10th 
Hussars,  after  they  had  been  out  all  day,  and  with 
them  was  old  *'  Bobby  "  Fisher,  whom  I  have  often 
ridden  against.  He  said  I  must  have  something 
with  them,  but,  when  he  came  to  look,  all  he  had 
was  half  a  loaf  of  almost  uneatable  bread.  There 
was  an  officer  attached  to  that  party,  the  late  Lord 
Kensington,  who  would  think  nothing  of  giving 
500  guineas  for  a  polo  pony  !  His  breakfast  consisted 
in  smoking  a  filthy  pipe  full  of  Boer  tobacco  !  I  met, 
too,  an  officer  whose  father  owns  one  of  the  finest 
feudal  castles  in  Scotland  ;  and  all  that  he  had  to  eat 
was  the  inside  of  a  black  potato.  But  they  were  not 
complaining.  Amongst  the  non-commissioned  officers 
and  men  a  similar  spirit  prevailed.  I  gave  one  man 
a  piece  of  chocolate,  and  he  was  as  grateful  as  if  I 
had  given  him  an  order  for  the  Savoy. 

In  spite  of  all  that  has  been  said  about  BuUer's 
inaction  before  Ladysmith,  I  can  testify  from  a  letter 
received  by  my  eldest  son  in  hospital,  from  one 
of  Buller's  aide-de-camps,  that  he  was  fighting  on 


■ 

^^^HB  ^    !^^H^^^^H 

^Hl^l 

^^^^Hlo*    "^I^^^^^^^^^h 

■J^MH 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^P .  .^^^^Q^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H 

^r 

1    ^ 

^Bj^^HH^ 

^|B 

^^^ 

^HH 

■ 

SIR    EVELYN    WOOD,    V.C.,    G.C.B. 


[p.  263 


THE   BOER   WAR  263 

thirty-one  days  out  of  forty.  Mention  of  Ladysmith 
reminds  me  that  Sir  Harry  Smith  (whose  wife  gave  her 
name  to  Ladysmith)  when  Governor  of  Cape  Colony 
gave  me  his  sword-belt.  I  was  quite  a  lad  at  the 
time,  but  after  the  war  I  hunted  it  up,  and  sent  it 
to  Sir  George  White,  as  a  small  token  of  my  admira- 
tion for  his  gallant  defence,  when  he  kept  the  Union 
Jack  flying  so  long  and  in  the  midst  of  so  many 
perils  and  privations  at  Ladysmith. 

As  to  the  Volunteers,  I  remember  a  speech  made 
by  Sir  Evelyn  Wood  at  Maldon,  to  the  2nd  Vol. 
Batt.,  Essex  Regiment,  in  which  he  referred  to  a  letter 
he  had  received  from  Major-General  (as  he  was  then) 
Smith-Dorrien,  writing  from  Komati  Poort,  in  which 
the  latter  said :  "  I  have  now  been  associated  for  a 
year  with  the  Volunteers.  Taking  the  mounted  and 
dismounted  men,  I  cannot  want  to  have  a  better, 
more  willing,  more  daring,  more  go-ahead  lot  of 
men,  and  I  shall  be  glad  if  I  can  get  the  same  sort  of 
men  that  I  have  had  with  me  heretofore.'' 

Sir  Evelyn,  by  the  way,  had  one  or  two  rather 
amusing  things  to  say  about  his  first  acquaintance 
with  Smith-Dorrien.  He  described  how,  eighteen 
years  before,  he  was  outside  Alexandria,  and  their 
lines  were  being  menaced  by  a  division  of  Arabi 
Pasha's  army.  Smith-Dorrien  was  then  a  lieutenant, 
and  he  sent  him  into  the  Khedive's  stables,  about 
eight  or  nine  miles  behind  them,  to  get  horses.  The 
lieutenant  returned  with  twenty-two  horses,  three 
mules,  and  a  donkey.  He  put  some  of  the  soldiers 
on  these — most  of  them  had  never  been  astride  an 
animal  before— on  saddles  which  he  had  got  from 
somewhere,  and  away  he  marched  with  them  at  night, 


264  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN^S  LIFE 

most  of  them  not  riding,  but  holding  on  to  the  animals, 
as  there  was  plenty  of  accommodation  between  the 
saddle  and  the  neck.  They  went  out  to  the  front, 
engaged  the  enemy,  of  whom  they  shot  three,  and 
from  that  day  the  latter  ceased  from  troubling  ! 

Two  or  three  years  afterwards,  when  he  was  trying 
to  raise  the  Egyptian  army,  he  came  across  Smith- 
Dorrien  again.  The  latter  had  been  practically 
turned  out  of  his  regiment  through  rheumatism  of 
the  knee,  and  when  Sir  Evelyn  agreed  to  take  him  on, 
the  doctor  remarked  that  he  had  done  wrong,  and 
taken  on  a  "  dead  head."  "  Well,"  said  Sir  Evelyn, 
"  I'm  willing  to  back  my  own  judgment.  I'd  rather 
have  him  with  one  knee  than  most  men  with 
two." 

Among  the  officers  with  whom  I  came  in  personal 
contact  were  General  French  and  Lord  Dundonald, 
both  of  whom  did  much  brilliant  work.  Lord  Dun- 
donald went  out  to  South  Africa  on  his  own  hook, 
and  the  authorities  would  not  do  anything  for  him 
at  first,  but  they  soon  had  to  recognise  his  sterling 
qualities.  All  sorts  of  reports  were  circulated  about 
Lord  Methuen ;  but  I  saw  him,  and  he  was  as  well  as 
possible.  With  regard  to  Magersfontein,  it  is  said 
that  the  order  given  to  the  Highlanders  was  intended 
for  the  Foot  Guards.  It  was  dark  at  the  time,  and 
they  were  afraid  to  "  flash  "  the  orders. 

I  also  met  General  Gatacre,  General  Brabazon, 
Colonel  Quale-Jones,  and  Colonel  Babington,  each 
of  whom  had  been  stationed  at  Colchester.  I  saw 
Sir  William  Gatacre  at  Cape  Town,  prior  to  his  de- 
parture for  England  ;  but  nothing  passed  between 
us  in  reference  to  the  General's  recall.     He  was  too 


THE    BOER   WAR  265 

good  a  sportsman  to  complain,  and  I  did  not  mention 
the  matter,  but  I  felt  very  sorry  for  him. 

One  day  I  had  a  long  ride  with  General  Stephenson, 
formerly  in  command  of  the  Essex  Regiment.  It  was 
rumoured  that  the  Boers  were  trying  to  take  a  water 
tank  ;  and  as  we  were  riding  along  we  met  someone 
whom  it  was  thought  was  Lord  Stanley,  the  Press 
Censor,  now  Lord  Derby.  I  rode  up  to  him  to  see 
if  he  had  any  later  information  he  could  give  us, 
when  I  discovered  it  was  Dr.  (now  Sir  Arthur)  Conan 
Doyle,  and  a  very  fine  fellow  1  found  him. 

An  incident  that  I  witnessed  after  my  return  to 
England  impressed  me  very  much  at  the  time,  as 
showing  the  sort  of  spirit  that  imbued  the  men  who 
took  part  in  this  war.  I  was  on  my  way  to  see  my 
son  Raul  off  at  Southampton. 

With  us  in  the  carriage  were  Lord  Alan  (now  Earl) 
Percy,  and  the  late  Mr.  Meeking,  who  lost  a  brother 
in  the  10th  Hussars.  As  we  crawled  past  Pirbright 
in  a  South-Western  "  express  "  we  found  that  the 
Grenadiers  had  voluntarily  turned  out  on  the  canal, 
which  is  near  enough  to  the  line  for  Raul  to  recognize 
several  of  the  men,  and  they  cheered  their  officers 
as  only  British  soldiers  and  sailors  can  cheer.  When 
men  have  such  a  feeling  of  affection  and  respect  for 
their  officers  one  realizes  how  strongly  esprit  de  corps 
still  exists,  especially  in  our  crack  regiments,  and  how 
it  was  that  the  Grenadiers  remained  with  an  un- 
broken front  in  South  Africa,  when  other  regiments 
on  either  side  were  *'  disorganised,"  on  an  officer 
saying,  "  Remember,  men,  you're  Grenadiers  !  " 

There  can  be  no  doubt  in  my  mind  that  faulty 
scouting  iiccounted  for  many  of  our  disastexs  in  the 


266  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

early  part  of  the  war.  Scouts  are  to  an  army  what 
frigates  were  to  the  fleet  in  Nelson's  day  ;  and  every- 
one remembers  that  gallant  sailor's  remark  when,  in 
the  bitterness  and  despair  of  his  fruitless  search  for 
the  French  fleet,  he  declared  that  at  his  death,  "  Want 
of  frigates  "  would  be  found  stamped  on  his  heart. 

I  did  a  good  deal  of  scouting  work  myself,  by  the 
way.  I  went  with  Porter's  Cavalry,  and  though  I 
really  was  a  "  visitor  "  1  scouted  as  a  private  when 
I  was  required.  I  saw  the  Boers  on  several  occasions, 
but  we  did  not  get  very  close  to  them.  My  eldest 
son  was  in  about  two  dozen  actions — he  was  under 
fire  every  day  almost — and  he  told  me  that  he  hardly 
ever  saw  a  Boer.  They  are  undoubtedly  clever  at 
that  sort  of  fighting  ;  but  they  wouldn't  meet  our 
fellows  in  the  open. 

A  letter  received  after  my  return  to  England  from 
a  Maldon  man,  who  was  serving  under  Colonel  de  Lisle, 
shows  the  sort  of  tactics  that  De  Wet  and  his  men 
pursued.  "  I  notice  by  the  papers,"  he  says,  "  that 
some  of  the  people  have  a  very  good  opinion  of  De 
Wet.  If  they  knew  as  much  about  him  as  we  do, 
they  might  think  differently.  We  have  often  met 
De  Wet's  convoys  and  captured  them,  but  not  the 
leader,  for  the  simple  reason  that  as  soon  as  our  men 
were  sighted  he  has  bunked  off,  leaving  his  men  to 
get  on  as  best  they  can.  Of  course,  while  we  are 
engaging  them  he  has  time  to  pick  up  a  few  stragglers, 
who  are  in  abundance.  He  once  more  repeats  the 
so-called  smart  *  tactics,'  this  time  on  another 
column,  loses  his  men,  and  once  more  bunks,  which 
is  very  easy  to  do  in  Africa,  even  if  he  had  twice  the 
number  of  columns  on  his  track,  because  his  friends. 


THE    BOER   WAR  267 

are  in  every  part  that  he  directs  his  attention  to.  We 
are  also  handicapped,  as  the  enemy  have  so  much  in 
their  favour.  They  seldom  wear  uniform  ;  they  know 
every  kopje ;  they  also  practise  what  the  British 
soldier  is  not  allowed  to  do." 

While  with  Porter's  Cavalry  I  assisted  in  rescuing 
a  large  number  of  our  wounded  after  Broadwood's 
disaster  at  Koorn  Spruit.  We  were  only  just  in  time 
to  save  them,  and  we  had  to  bury  numbers  of  dead. 
I  was  under  fire  on  this  occasion,  and  a  Boer  shell 
passed  quite  close  enough  to  my  head  to  be 
pleasant. 

There  were  several  amusing  yarns  current  about 
the  Boer  women.  One  of  them  became  so  affectionate 
towards  the  officer  who  escorted  her  to  Cape  Town, 
that  her  husband  was  positively  delighted  when  he 
and  his  wife  were  safely  shipped  for  St.  Helena  ! 

The  men  who  did  the  scouting  work  (to  return  to 
our  "  muttons,"  as  they  say),  were  good  men  and  true 
enough,  but  the  majority  of  them  were  town-bred, 
and  new  to  the  game,  and  no  match  for  the  Boers,  who 
are  past-masters  in  this  department.  There  were 
plenty  of  men  who  had  served  in  former  years  who, 
to  their  everlasting  shame,  did  not  offer  their  services 
in  the  war — men  who  by  accident  of  birth,  education, 
and  inclination,  should  have  proved  the  best  scouts 
we  had — men  who  have  devoted  much  of  their  spare 
time  to  the  ordinary  sports  of  English  country  gentle- 
men, and  who  have  probably,  in  addition,  shot  big 
game  either  when  serving  abroad  or  travelling. 

There  were  some  in  my  own  county  of  Essex,  who 
have  made  the  profession  of  arms  their  study,  but 
who  had  retired  from  the  service  and  were  under 


268  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

sixty  years  of  age.  Joubert  and  Cronje  were  sixty- 
five  !  And  I  remember  the  case  of  a  fine  old  New 
Zealander,  whom  I  knew,  who,  at  the  age  of  sixty- 
five,  when  refused  in  his  native  island  on  account  of 
age,  though  in  humble  circumstances,  paid  his  passage 
to  the  Cape,  and  enlisted  in  the  Duke  of  Edinburgh's 
volunteers.  The  last  I  saw  of  him  was  being  carried 
in  a  stretcher  over  the  side  of  the  Canada,  en  route  for 
Netley  Hospital. 

Surely  some  of  these  gentlemen  could  have  formed 
the  nucleus  of  a  corps  of  scouts  from  among  their 
tenants  and  retainers — men  who  might  have  saved  us 
from  such  a  disaster  as  Sauna's  Post — men  who  would 
have  been  prepared  to  sacrifice  their  lives  to  save  their 
comrades.  And  the  men  of  Essex,  who  fought  under 
Stephenson  and  others,  proved  themselves  second  to 
none.  Knowledge  of  drill  would  have  proved  abso- 
lutely unnecessary,  but  a  want  of  that  knowledge 
doubtless  made  men,  who  would  have  been  admirable 
scouts,  diffident  about  joining  either  the  Yeomanry 
or  the  Volunteers. 

These  feather-bed  soldiers  doubtless  consider  them- 
selves aristocrats,  but  as  such  they  should  be  wiped 
out,  as  were  the  effeminate  French  aristocrats  during 
the  latter  days  of  the  Bourbons.  If  we  are  to  have 
aristocracy,  let  it  be  the  genuine  article,  sprung  from 
the  loins  of  such  men  as  Winchester  and  Airlie. 

Of  aristocrats  of  the  right  sort  I  am  glad  to  say 
there  are  still  plenty  and  to  spare,  as  this  war  fully 
testified.  There  comes  to  my  mind,  amongst 
others,  the  name  of  Lord  Rosmead,  the  son  of  a 
distinguished  father,  who  had  made  a  great  name  for 
himself  in  South  Africa.     The  moment  England  was 


THE    BOER   WAR  269 

in  a  tight  place,  the  son  volunteered  to  go  to  the  front, 
and  endeavoured  to  add  some  further  lustre  to  his 
family  escutcheon  with  his  sword.  I  had  the  pleasure 
of  meeting  him  several  times  out  in  South  Africa. 
On  one  occasion,  on  the  Orange  River,  I  found  him 
making  use  of  very  strong  language  at  being  forced 
to  lead  a  life  of  what  he  considered  to  be  inactivity  ; 
but  a  few  days  later  I  met  him  again  at  Bloemfontein, 
where  he  had  done  the  most  sensible  thing  a  man 
could  do  to  see  active  service — he  had  got  on  the 
Stall  of  General  Hutton,  of  the  60th  Rifles.  While 
General  Buller  and  other  60th  Riflemen  were  "  giving 
the  Boers  what  for  "  on  the  Durban  side.  General 
Hutton  was  "  giving  them  hell  "  on  the  other.  The 
march  from  Bloemfontein  to  Pretoria  was  no  kid- 
glove  picnic.  Lord  Rosmead  lost  no  less  than  eight 
horses  on  the  march  and  during  the  fighting,  which 
was  a  pretty  good  indication  of  the  hot  work  he  had 
been  through. 

This  is  the  sort  of  thing  that  helps  to  make  and 
keep  England  what  she  is.  Personally,  I  think  that 
every  able-bodied  Briton  should  qualify  to  defend  his 
country  ;  and  I  do  not  consider  a  male  to  be  a  man 
till  he  has  done  so.  We  might  take  a  lesson  in  this 
matter  from  savage  nations.  It  is  a  dream  of  mine 
that  one  day  we  may  see  the  institution  in  England 
of  "  Schools  of  Instruction  for  Home  Defence,"  in 
which  each  individual  could  select  the  branch  most 
interesting  to  him,  including  marine  mining.  Of 
course  to  remain  a  first-class  nation  we  must  retain 
the  command  of  the  sea.  But  this  being  secured, 
I  think,  if  some  scheme  of  the  kind  I  have  suggested 
were  carried  out,  that,  should  occasion  arise,  England 


270  FOETY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

might  be  depleted  of  its  active  army,  and  the 
country's  defence  might  safely  be  left  in  the  hands 
of  the  citizen  soldiers. 

I  cannot  quit  this  subject  without  referring  to  a 
speech  made  by  the  then  Lord-Lieutenant  of  Essex, 
in  the  course  of  which  he  remarked  that  he  was  not 
sure  that  our  Army  officers  had  taken  their  duties 
quite  as  professionally  as  he  would  have  liked  to  have 
seen  them.  I  took  the  matter  up  in  public  very 
strongly  at  the  time,  and  my  very  natural  indignation 
at  the  aspersions  cast  on  the  British  officer  as  a 
class  must  be  my  apology  tor  referring  to  the  matter 
again  here. 

I  saw  plenty  of  instances  in  South  Africa  of  the 
serious  way  in  which  British  officers  performed  their 
duties,  and  of  the  hardships  which  they  had  to  under- 
go. On  one  occasion,  at  Karee  Siding,  Broadwood's 
Brigade  were  engaged  from  seven  in  the  morning 
until  seven  in  the  evening  of  the  following  day, 
— thirty-six  hours  ! — without  so  much  as  the  bite  of 
a  biscuit. 

There  is  a  story  that  some  foreign  military  attaches 
were  being  conducted  round  Woolwich  Arsenal,  and 
saw  some  men  who  were  working  with  pick  and  spade, 
and  dressed  in  common  canvas  suits.  One  of  the 
attaches  remarked  to  the  officer  conducting  the 
party,  "  Convicts,  I  presume  ?  "  The  officer  re- 
plied, "  Oh  dear,  no  !  they  are  British  Artillery 
officers."  That  explanation  caused  the  Attache  to 
observe  that  he  could  now  quite  understand  why  the 
British  Artillery  was  the  best  in  the  world. 

But  after  all,  the  British  officer  needs  no  words 
of   mine    to   vindicate    his   honour — his   own   deeds 


W    a 


THE    BOER   WAR  271 

are  the  most  fitting  criterion  by  which  to  judge 
him. 

The  war  cost  me  a  very  dear  friend  in  Major  Henry 
Shelley  Dalbiac,  who  was  killed  in  the  fighting  out- 
side Senekal,  while  with  Sir  Leslie  Rundle's  force. 
Dalbiac  had  been  in  the  Royal  Artillery,  and  served  as 
a  Captain  in  the  Egyptian  war.  He  was  badly  hit  at 
Tel-el-Kebir,  and  when  the  doctor  told  him  he  had 
only  a  quarter  of  an  hour  to  live,  the  gallant  "  Trea- 
sure "  offered  to  bet  him  a  fiver  he  was  a  liar  !  He 
retired  from  the  army  in  1887,  but  when  the  Boer 
War  broke  out  he  went  out  as  Captain  in  the  Imperial 
Yeomanry. 

Poor  Dalbiac  !  He  was  the  best  of  friends,  and 
a  true  sportsman.  Old  Kozak  belonged  to  him, 
and  he  used  to  ride  him  with  the  West  Surrey  Stag- 
hounds.  When  Dalbiac  went  to  the  front  he  left 
Kozak  behind,  declaring  that  he  was  far  too  good 
a  horse  to  get  shot ;  and  after  his  death  in  South 
Africa  I  purchased  the  horse  for  old  acquaintance' 
sake,  and  many  is  the  race  I  have  ridden  and  won 
on  him  since. 

One  of  the  first  events  after  my  return  to  England 
was  the  revival  of  the  Champion  Lodge  Steeplechases, 
after  a  lapse  of  about  ten  years.  The  event  was 
interesting  to  me  in  two  ways,  one  being  the  fact  that 
it  was  the  thirty-fourth  anniversary  of  my  first 
winning  mount,  and  the  other  that  I  got  home  a 
winner  in  the  first  event — the  Champion  Lodge  Cup 
— on  the  back  of  poor  old  Dalbiac 's  Kozak. 

I  won  two  other  races  on  Kozak  early  in  the  same 
year,  1901 — the  Maiden  Hurdle  Race  at  Colchester, 
and  the  Nimrod  Cup  at  the  Hawthorn  Hill  meeting. 


272  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

At  the  East  Essex  Hunt  Point  to  Point  Races  in 
March,  by  the  way,  my  son  Raul  had  what  might 
have  been  a  nasty  spill.  His  horse  rolled  over  just 
after  clearing  the  second  jump,  and  his  rider  lay 
mixed  up,  as  it  seemed,  with  the  animal's  hoofs ; 
but  beyond  a  slight  injury  to  his  shoulder  he  was 
quite  unhurt. 

In  the  autumn  of  the  year  I  held  what  I  called  my 
annual  South  African  Picnic,  a  shooting  party  which 
consisted  entirely  of  men  who  had  been  out  in  South 
Africa,  including  on  this  occasion  Lord  Rosmead, 
General  Sir  Evelyn  Wood,  and  General  French. 

One  of  the  best  runs  I  ever  remember  having 
occurred  with  the  East  Essex  Hounds  in  December, 
though  unfortunately  it  came  to  an  untimely  ending. 
We  were  only  a  tew  minutes  in  South  Wood,  when  a 
grand  up-wind  dog  fox  flew,  and  ran  through  Captain's 
Wood,  Maypole,  and  the  north  end  of  Eastlands,  by 
Wickham  Bishops,  to  Chancery,  Strutheath,  Westhall, 
over  Braxted  Park  wall — a  feat  very  few  foxes  who 
have  been  travelling  with  a  killing  scent,  in  heavy 
ground,  for  over  half  an  hour,  are  capable  of  perform- 
ing— then  across  the  park  over  the  farther  wall, 
followed  by  a  single  hound,  into  Tiptree  Springs, 
before  entering  which,  by  the  keeper's  request,  when 
the  hounds  had  fairly  earned  blood,  they  were  stopped, 
much  to  the  disappointment  of  every  good  sportsman, 
at  the  best  Saturday  run  of  the  season  being  so  spoilt. 
Think  of  this,  in  the  middle  of  December  !  Supposing 
a  few  pheasants  were  moved  by  hounds  from  a 
covert  which  was  going  to  be  shot  the  following  week, 
they  could  easily  have  been  tapped  back,  and  everyone 
knows  that  pheasants  fly  all  the  better  after  hounds 


THE    BOER    WAR  273 

have  drawn  a  run  through  the  coverts.  However, 
there  it  was,  and  we  had  to  swallow  our  disappoint- 
ment as  best  we  might. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  I  had  an  adventure 
which  was  a  bit  of  a  novelty,  and  didn't  come  under 
the  head  of  any  of  the  things  I  had  tackled  before 
in  the  course  of  my  varied  experiences.  This  was 
a  stand-up  fight  with  a  monkey,  and  it  happened  in 
this  way.  My  youngest  son  used  to  keep  a  couple 
of  monkeys  in  a  cage  at  Champion  Lodge,  which  stood 
to  one  another  in  the  relationship  of  mother  and  son. 
On  the  occasion  in  question  the  young  monkey  had 
escaped  from  its  cage,  and  no  one  could  re-capture 
him,  try  as  they  might.  At  last  my  services  were 
called  into  requisition,  and  a  fine  dance  he  led  me  ! 
However  I  got  him  eventually,  and  took  him  back  to 
the  cage.  Thereupon  the  mother  monkey,  imagining, 
no  doubt,  that  we  had  been  ill-treating  her  precious 
offspring  in  some  way,  flew  out  of  the  cage,  leapt  on 
to  my  shoulder,  and  promptly  went  for  me  tooth 
and  nail.  The  way  she  pummelled  me  would  have 
done  credit  to  Pedlar  Palmer,  the  bantam  light- 
weight, in  his  best  days.  She  planted  her  feet  under 
my  chin,  got  hold  of  my  head,  tore  my  scalp,  fairly 
lifting  it  up,  altogether  giving  me  an  awful  mauling. 
I  have  stood  up  to  a  good  many  men  in  my  time, 
professional  and  amateur,  but  I  had  never  tackled 
a  monkey  before,  and  I  don't  know  that  I  ever  want 
to  again.  The  result  was  a  liberal  application  of 
arnica  and  bandages,  and  it  was  several  days  before 
I  could  even  wear  a  cap. 

Kozak  laid  another  victory  to  his  credit  in  April 
1903,  when  he  carried  my  son  Raul  home  a  winner  in 

18 


274  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

the  Grenadier  Guards'  Challenge  Cup  at  the  House- 
hold Brigade  Steeplechases.  Another  horse  of  Raul's, 
Woodlander,  ridden  by  the  Hon.  G.  Douglas- 
Pennant,  came  in  third  in  the  same  race. 

I  remember  that  in  the  month  previous  to  this, 
I  rode  Old  Calabar  in  the  Grand  Military  at  Sandown, 
but  he  refused  at  the  first  ditch,  and  I  pulled  him  up. 
I  then  took  him  back  a  short  cut  across  the  park, 
but  in  jumping  the  rails  of  the  course  he  smashed  up 
the  whole  obstruction,  and  brought  me  down  in  a 
heap. 

Races  succeeded  one  another  with  great  regularity 
during  the  seasons  of  1903  and  1904,  but  I  can  recall 
no  very  noteworthy  incident  that  is  worth  recording, 
and  a  mere  repetition  of  my  racing  engagements 
would  become  tedious.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  I 
was  still  feeling  as  "  fit  as  a  fiddle,"  and  going  as 
strong  as  ever. 

In  1904  my  son  Vierville  and  I  enjoyed  some 
pigsticking  and  shooting  in  Morocco,  after  a  fearful 
fall  he  had  had  with  the  Pytchley  the  previous  year. 

There  is  rather  a  good  story  up  against  me  in 
connection  with  the  Essex  Summer  Assizes.  I  was 
foreman  of  the  Grand  Jury,  and  Mr.  Justice  Kennedy 
was  the  Judge.  We  had  been  hard  at  it  all  the 
morning,  and  as  I  was  particularly  anxious  to  catch 
the  three  o'clock  train  from  Chelmsford  I  left  it  to 
two  of  the  other  gentlemen,  Mr.  Thomas  Kemble  and 
Mr.  D.  J.  Morgan,  to  take  the  last  of  the  true  bills 
and  the  usual  presentment  into  court.  The  docu- 
ments were  handed  to  the  Clerk  of  Arraigns,  who  at 
once  noticed  that  they  had  not  been  signed  by  me  as 
foreman.     The  Judge  said  it  would  be  necessary  for 


THE    BOER   WAR  275 

the  foreman  to  sign  them  before  the  Grand  Jury 
could  be  discharged.  "  But,  my  Lord,"  exclaimed 
Mr.  Kemble,  amidst  the  laughter  of  the  Court,  "  our 
foreman's  bolted  !  "  "  What's  to  be  done  ?  "  said 
Mr.  Morgan,  sotto  voce,  to  Mr.  Kemble.  "  I'm  sure 
I  don't  know,"  said  the  latter.  "  Well,  I  do,"  said 
Mr.  Morgan,  suddenly :  "I'm  going  to  catch  Sir 
Claude,  or  we  shall  be  kept  here  all  night." 

Suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  off  he  went,  rushed 
downstairs,  commandeered  the  first  policeman  he 
came  across,  and  told  him  to  "  run  like  the  devil  to 
the  station,  find  Sir  Claude  de  Crespigny,  and  bring 
him  back  to  the  court !  "  Off  rushed  the  policeman  ; 
but  Morgan,  thinking,  I  suppose,  that  he  might  not 
prove  a  good  "  stayer,"  bolted  after  him,  and  found 
him  meandering  up  the  street.  Using  his  sonorous 
voice  to  the  full,  and  gesticulating  wildly,  he  again 
urged  the  policeman  to  catch  me,  with  the  result 
that  the  latter  broke  into  a  trot,  and  was  lost  to  view. 
When,  a  few  minutes  later,  Morgan  reached  the 
station,  the  train  was  just  about  to  start.  "  Jump 
on,  sir  !  "  cried  the  porters.  "  Not  much  !  "  replied 
Morgan  ;  "  I  want  Sir  Claude  de  Crespigny."  And  in 
the  distance  he  espied  me,  safe  in  the  arms  of  the 
policeman,  who  was  resisting,  as  politely  as  possible, 
my  somewhat  vigorous  attempts  to  board  the  train. 
There  was  nothing  for  it,  so  I  had  to  go  back ;  and 
loud  was  the  laughter  that  greeted  me  when  I  re- 
appeared in  the  Shire  Hall. 


CHAPTER   XI 

FIGHTING   AND   SPORT   IN   EAST   AFRICA 

TN  the  early  part  of  1905  I  went  out  to  East  Africa 
for  a  little  big-game  shooting,  and  had  the  luck 
to  arrive  just  in  time  to  join  the  Sotik  punitive 
expedition,  so  that  I  was  able  to  combine  a  certain 
amount  of  fighting  with  some  excellent  sport.  For 
an  account  of  this  trip  I  don't  think  I  can  do  better 
than  to  refer  to  my  diary,  and  relate  my  experiences 
just  as  I  jotted  them  down  at  the  time,  while  the 
incidents  were  fresh  in  my  memory.  The  first  entry 
is,  I  see,  dated  May  14,  1905. 

"S.S.  'Sybil,'  Victoria  Nyanza. 

"  Last  Monday  a  patrol  of  an  officer  (Capt.  Barrett) 
with  fifty  men  of  the  Uganda  Rifles,  with  a  Maxim, 
were  sent  to  defend  the  settlers  who  have  been 
threatened  by  the  Sotiks,  forty  miles  north  of  Njoro 
Station.  A  large  force,  under  Major  Pope  Hennessy, 
consisting  of  from  three  companies  to  a  wing  of 
Soudanese,  will  follow  early  in  June. 

"  The  forest  through  which  the  troops  will  march  is 
very  thick,  the  grass  high,  and  too  damp  to  burn,  so  it 
will  favour  the  enemy  ;  who,  doubtless,  will  endeavour 
to  ambuscade  us,  and  will  in  all  probability, — as  they 
have  never  yet  met  disciplined   troops — fight  well 

276 


FIGHTING  AND  SPORT  IN  EAST  AFRICA   277 

with  their  poisoned  arrows  and  spears,  for  at  least 
some  time,' against  our  Metfords,  minus  the  magazine 
and  Maxim. 

"  If  the  advance  guard  does  not  get  porcupined  it 
will  be  very  lucky. 

"  So  far  as  can  be  judged  there  will  be  a  far  bigger 
job  on  a  little  later  nearer  this  lake,  with  the  Nandi 
tribe,  but  as  I  propose  leaving  the  country  after  the 
Nairobi  races  in  July,  I  shall  hardly  be  able  to  take 
part  in  it. 

"  We  are  making  a  steeplechase  course,  so  as  to  be 
able  to  have  some  cross-country  events  in  conjunction 
with  the  flat  races. 

"  This  morning  I  visited  the  Ripon  Falls,  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  spots  on  earth.  The  falls  are 
— in  addition  to  being  the  principal  source  of  the 
White  Nile — the  dam  of  this  lake. 

"  The  fall  is  about  25  feet,  I  should  think,  and 
a  vast  volume  of  water  rushes  down  it.  Some 
plucky  fish,  like  our  tench,  scaling  about  4  lbs.,  were 
trying  to  jump  it.  None,  however,  as  far  as  I  could 
see,  got  more  than  half  way  up,  and  then  they  fell 
back. 

"  This  lake  (Victoria  Nyanza)  would  make  a  perfect 
paradise  for  an  artist  who  was  fond  of  sport.  As  its 
altitude  is  over  3,500  feet  above  sea  level,  the  heat  is 
not  excessive  ;  neither  would  his  expenses  be  exces- 
sive. Return  passage  £100,  shooting  licences  £50, 
hire  of  dhow  (say)  50  rupees  a  month. 

"  He  would  have  an  everlasting  variety  of  sport 
and  scenery — bold  rocky  headlands,  hills  of  volcanic 
construction,  mountains  which  remind  one  of  the 
Austrian  Tyrol,  occasional  native  huts  surrounded 


278  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

with  patches  of  cultivated  ground,  and  finely- timbered 
forests,  with  jungle  which  is  in  many  parts  impene- 
trable to  man.  For  example,  at  Ukerewe  there  was 
a  huge  animal.  It  might  have  been  anything  smaller 
than  an  elephant.  There  were  eleven  of  them  close 
by.  It  jumped  up  within  five  yards  of  me,  but  so 
thick  was  the  undergrowth  that  I  could  not  make 
out  what  it  was — probably  a  boar.  Luckily,  it  broke 
away  from  me,  for  had  it  charged  it  would  have  been 
a  bad  look-out  for  my  Swahili  gunbearer  and  myself, 
as  my  chance  of  knocking  it  over  would  have  been 
rather  remote. 

"S.S.  'Sybil,'  BuKOBA, 
3Iaij  17,  1905. 

"  Yesterday  we  arrived  at  Bukoba  (German  Terri- 
tory), and  were  hospitably  received  by  the  officers  at 
their  rather  primitive  mess  room. 

"  At  Entebbe,  having  been  most  cordially  welcomed 
and  entertained  by  the  Commissioner,  Colonel  Sadler, 
and  Judge  Ennis,  I  visited  '  The  Sleeping  Sickness 
Hospital ' — the  only  one  in  the  world  of  any  import- 
ance. There  is  a  small  one  at  Kisuma.  This  disease, 
which  has  only  been  known  for  three  years,  has  been 
alluded  to  in  the  European  press,  but  it  has  attracted 
very  little  notice,  though  out  here  it  is  pretty  freely 
discussed,  as  no  one,  either  white  man  or  native,  has 
ever  recovered  from  it.  Whole  districts  have  fairly 
been  wiped  out  with  it.  For  instance,  near  Jinga 
(Ripon  Falls),  30,000  died,  and  many  of  the  islands 
in  this  lake  are  now  uninhabited. 

"  The  disease  is  conveyed  by  the  tsetse  fly,  in 
appearance  like  a  horse-fly, — the  same  insect  that 


FIGHTING  AND  SPORT  IN  EAST  AFRICA   279 

worries  the  bullocks  to  death  in  South  Africa.  It  is 
computed  that  no  more  than  two  per  cent,  convey 
the  fatal  germ.  It  is  at  present  doubtful  if  it 
actually  springs  from  them,  or  whether  they  con- 
vey it  from  fish.  The  hospital  staff  consists  of 
two  officers  of  the  Indian  Medical  Corps  and  two 
professors. 

"  I  saw  about  a  dozen  patients,  mostly  prisoners  in 
chains,  as  but  few  natives  care  to  come  into  hospital. 
Knowing  that  they  must  die  they  prefer,  to  use  their 
own  expression, '  to  die  in  the  grass  ' — i.e.  they  return 
to  their  homes,  where  they  are  more  or  less  looked 
after  by  their  own  people  ;  but  as  the  nourishment 
they  receive  is  less  than  they  would  receive  in  the 
hospital,  it  lessens  the  number  of  their  days,  which 
never  exceed  two  years. 

"  In  the  earlier  stages  the  patients  seem  very  fat 
and  jolly,  but  there  were  two  very  nearly  gone — one 
almost,  and  the  other  quite  insensible.  The  doctor 
said  they  could  not  possibly  last  more  than  three  or 
four  days.  A  German  was  down  with  the  disease, 
but  I  did  not  see  him.  Only  about  four  Europeans 
have  died  from  it  up  to  now.  We  had  on  board  a 
first-class  passenger,  an  Italian,  bound  for  his  native 
land,  whom  the  German  military  doctor  at  Bukoba 
has  pronounced  infected.  I  shall  endeavour  to  ascer- 
tain his  future.*  There  is  nothing  to  indicate  to 
the  ordinary  eye  that  anything  is  wrong  at  present, 
but  the  glands  of  the  neck  are,  I  believe,  the  in- 
falhble  tell-tale. 

*  Apparently  he  was  wrongly  diagnosed,  for  after  remaining 
some  months  in  his  home  at  Florence  he  returned  to  East 
Africa. — CCh.  de  C. 


280  FOKTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

"  At  the  hospital  they  have  about  forty  monkeys 
inoculated.  About  half  die  inside  two  months,  the 
remainder  being  considerably  emaciated  before  re- 
covery. I  wonder  if  your  home  doctors  know  any- 
thing about  it  ? 

"  Bukoba,  which  is  gradually  developing,  is  of  a 
certain  historical  interest,  as  the  officers'  quarters  were 
built  by  Emin  Pasha,  and  there  are  the  remains  of  a 
camping  ground  once  occupied  by  him  and  Stanley. 

''  Glass  being  a  scarce  commodity,  the  windows  of 
the  messroom,  and  commander's  quarters  are  filled  in 
with  old  photograph  plates. 

"  On  the  18th  we  arrived  at  Muanga,  the  German 
station  at  the  south  end  of  the  lake.  It  is  in  a 
magnificent  rocky  position,  and  almost  completely 
landlocked,  which  is  decidedly  a  consideration  when 
it  blows  hard. 

**  Both  crocodiles  and  hippopotami  swarm.  They 
are  far  more  plentiful  than  foxes  in  Essex. 

"  Yesterday,  when  washing  clothes,  a  native  was 
killed  close  to  where  we  are  now  anchored.  The 
German  Commandant  was  promptly  on  the  spot 
with  his  rifle,  so  the  remains  of  victim  and  crocodile, 
minus  his  head,  received  simultaneous  burial. 

"  A  singular  incident  happened  on  board  the  boat 
a  few  months  ago.  A  14J-foot  python  crawled  up 
our  gangway  when  at  Pt.  Florence,  close  on  mid- 
night, and  was  shot  by  the  chief  officer.  The  body 
sank,  but  was  fished  up  with  a  boat-hook,  and  the 
python's  skin  is  now  in  the  possession  of  the  captain's 
wife." 

I  see  I  made  a  slight  error  in  my  last  entry.     The 


FIGHTING  AND  SPORT  IN  EAST  AFRICA   281 

Soudanese  patrol  was  sent  south  of  Njoro,  not  north. 
The  fact  is,  I  find  it  much  more  difficult  to  ascertain 
the  points  of  the  compass  when  bang  under  the 
equator — I  have  crossed  it  three  times  during  the 
last  few  days — than  in  our  northern  latitude,  though 
at  night  one  can  see  both  the  Great  Bear  and  the 
Southern  Cross. 

"May  20,  1905. 

"  Yesterday  a  Hampshire  sportsman  and  I  en- 
deavoured to  revenge  the  death  of  the  native,  and, 
I  think,  may  fairly  claim  to  have  done  so.  First 
disturbing  a  small  colony  of  monkeys  from  an  india- 
rubber  tree,  which  had  been  freely  tapped  by  natives 
for  the  valuable  sap,  we  took  up  our  position  in  the 
shade  above  some  rocks  on  which  the  crocodiles  would 
be  likely  to  sun  themselves.  Unfortunately  for  us, 
whatever  we  killed  fell  into  the  water,  especially  a 
large  lizard,  whose  body  I  was  particularly  anxious 
to  recover,  as  its  hide  makes  excellent  handbags, 
etc.  ;  but,  alas,  he  doubtless  made  a  recherche  supper 
for  a  voracious  crocodile. 

"  We  shall  probably  finish  our  '  round-the-lake  ' 
cruise  on  Wednesday,  the  24th,  and  on  the  following 
day  I  shall  hope  to  return  to  the  happy  hunting 
grounds  of  the  plains  round  Nairobi. 

"S.S.  'Sybil'  Bukoba,  June  2,  1905. 

"  The  Sotik  punitive  expedition,  under  Major  Pope 
Henessey,  K.O.  Rifles,  was  previously  inspected  and 
addressed  by  Sir  Donald  Stewart,  K.C.M.G.,  who  was 
accompanied  by  his  A.D.C.,  and  rode  with  them  for 
the  first  four  miles,  witnessing  how  the  men  took  up 
their  positions  when  the  *  Alert '  was  sounded.    His 


282  FOETY  YEARS  OF  A  SPOETSMAN'S  LIFE 

Excellency  found  the  force  drawn  up  in  the  most 
imposing  formation — 600  Masai  warriors  in  a  single 
line  near  Njoro  Station,  in  the  shape  of  a  balloon  with 
neck  and  valve  open,  the  post  of  honour  being  held 
by  forty  lion-killers,  with  their  lion-skin  head  dresses, 
shaped  like  Life  Guards'  helmets.  To  the  south- 
west, in  quarter  column,  were  six  officers  and  235 
K.O.  Eifles.  The  advance  was  also  witnessed  by 
Lord  and  Lady  Delamere  (the  latter  riding  with  us 
for  some  miles).  Lord  Cole,  Mr.  Jackson,  the  Sub- 
Commissioner,  and  Mrs.  Jackson.  The  first  day's 
march  was  an  easy  one  of  eight  miles,  so  as  not  to 
distress  the  porters,  and  our  route  through  the  forest 
was  facilitated  by  trees  which  had  been  blazed  last 
December.  It  was  pretty  rough  walking  through 
virgin  forest,  composed  principally  of  cedar  and 
juniper  trees,  with  exceptionally  thick  undergrowth. 

"  Having  arrived  at  our  camping-ground,  we  at 
once  proceeded  to  form  a  double  zareba  of  about 
seventy-five  yards  square  with  barbed  wire  outside, 
and  the  troops  and  levies  were  warned  of  their  night 
duties. 

"  I  was  rather  amused  when  some  young  warriors 
were  ordered  to  reduce  the  interval  between  them- 
selves and  the  group  on  their  left.  '  Not  likely,'  they 
replied,  as  the  men  on  that  flank  were  old  warriors, 
who  would  steal  their  rations  during  the  night. 

"  A  Masai  warrior  is  not  supposed  to  drink  during 
the  day,  when  on  the  war-path,  though  I  saw  some 
of  them  with  their  heads  in  a  stream  and  then  wiping 
their  lips  ;  so  they  make  up  for  their  self-denial  by 
filling  the  skins  of  the  bullocks  killed  that  day  and 
mixing  with  the  water  the  bark  of  cedar  crushed  with 


FIGHTING  AND  SPORT  IN  EAST  AFRICA   283 

a  knobkerry.      Let's   hope  it  tastes  better  than  it 
looks. 

"  Our  camping-grounds  are  somewhat  similar — an 
open  grass  plot  with  a  few  scattered  clumps,  near  a 
stream,  inside  a  frame  of  splendid  forest  timber,  our 
zareba  being  out  of  arrow-range  from  the  belt. 

"  We  naturally  hoped  to  be  attacked  by  daylight, 
so  that  after  the  rifles  and  maxims  have  done  their 
work  our  levies  may  annihilate  them  with  the  spear. 

"  In  the  course  of  a  day  or  two  we  hope  to  be 
joined  by  two  attachments,  which  will  make  up  our 
strength  to  400  rifles  and  900  spears.  The  estimated 
strength  of  the  enemy  is  between  3,000  and  6,000, 
one-third  with  bows  and  arrows,  and  two-thirds  with 
spears. 

"  It  is  improbable  that  we  shall  be  attacked  by 
daylight,  failing  which  we  are  in  hopes  that  it  may  be 
on  the  night  of  Monday,  June  5  ;  and  I  hope  that  our 
outer  zareba  may  be,  as  it  is  to-day,  composed  of 
bamboo,  near  which  we  are  encamped  (and  through 
which  we  marched,  it  being  fully  forty  feet  high), 
and  barbed  wire,  as  this  will  give  both  bayonets 
and  spears,  who  are  mixed  alternately,  an  excellent 
chance ;  but  I  do  not  suppose  our  levies  will  be  allowed 
to  pursue  in  the  dark. 

"  The  tents  of  the  CO.  and  myself  are  placed  in 
the  front  face,  between  the  two  zarebas,  immediately 
behind  a  maxim. 

**  We  are  packed  fairly  close  inside  our  seventy-five- 
yards  square,  for  in  addition  to  the  rifles  and  levies 
we  have  200  porters  and  200  cattle. 

"  The  Masais  laager  inside  their  spears  and  shields, 
in  groups  of  about  a  dozen,  and  keep  their  fires  going, 


284  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

rain  or  no  rain,  all  night  long — which  must  be  com- 
forting as  there  is  frost  every  night,  we  being  at  an 
altitude  of  9,000  feet — but  till  the  fires  get  red-hot 
the  smoke  is  rather  trying  to  European  eyes. 

"  Our  casualties  up  to  now  are  one  porter  deserted, 
and  two  soldiers  wounded  by  a  cartridge  exploded  in 
a  camp  fire. 

"  June  4, 

"  We  arrived  to-day  at  what  we  call '  Fort  Barrett,' 
the  zareba  having  been  built  by  a  captain  of  that 
name  in  the  K.O.R.  It  is  situated  above  the  farm 
of  a  settler  named  Nielson,  who  is  acting  as  our  scout 
in  the  Sotik  country,  and  on  a  huge  roUing  plateau 
adjoining  the  Sotik  forest. 

"  From  what  we  can  gain  from  our  prisoners  we 
may  commence  exchanging  shots  in  about  two  days. 

"  Kericho,  Kisumu  Province,  June  26,  1905. 

"  The  duties  of  the  above  force  are  nearly  at  an 
end,  and  it  will  probably  concentrate  at  Molo,  on  the 
Uganda  Railway,  about  July  3  or  4,  with  the  re- 
mainder of  the  cattle,  sheep,  and  goats. 

*'  I  had  to  leave  to  fulfil  an  engagement  to  a  big 
game  shoot  on  the  Athi  River  and  plain,  and  shall 
arrive  at  Nairobi  on  the  28th. 

"  Major  Pope  Hennessy,  K.A.R.,  may  be  con- 
gratulated on  having  done  all  that  might  have  been 
expected  of  a  capable  leader  and  experienced  bush- 
fighter,  and  he  was  ably  seconded  by  those  immedi- 
ately under  him — officers  from  nearly  a  dozen  British 
regiments,  now  attached  to  the  3rd  Battalion 
K.A.R. 


\ 


FIGHTING  AND  SPORT  IN  EAST  AFRICA  285 

"  The  results  are,  so  far,  roughly  as  follows,  but  the 
total  will  probably  be  augmented  during  the  next 
few  days  :  Cattle,  1,500 ;  goats  and  sheep,  4,000 ; 
Sotiks  killed,  50.  The  last  item  we  had  hoped  to 
make  500,  but  its  accomplishment  was  somewhat 
difficult,  as  our  progress  was  not  unlike  that  of  the 
Turks  and  Greeks,  viz.  :— '  One  army  marching  while 
the  other  ran  away.' 

"  The  captives  will  at  any  rate  pay  the  expenses 
of  the  expedition,  and  reimburse  our  friendly  Masais 
for  their  loss  in  killed,  captives,  and  cattle  when 
raided  by  the  Sotiks.  It  will  also  be  a  lesson  to  the 
latter,  but  whether  a  sufficiently  severe  one  or  not 
will  rest  with  H.M.  Commissioner. 

"  There  can  be  but  little  doubt  that  the  Lumbwa 
and  Boret  tribes,  to  whom  the  Sotiks  are  related, 
though  ostensibly  friendly  to  us,  connived  at  the 
cattle  of  the  latter  being  driven  into  their  comitries. 

"It  is  more  than  likely  that  ere  long  a  stronger 
force,  say  two  battalions,  divided  into  four  columns, 
may  have  to  give  all  three  a  nasty  knock  before 
settlers  will  invest  in  land  in  these  parts ;  also  that 
the  Nandi  tribe  will  throw  in  their  lot  with  their 
coloured  brethren. 

"  In  parts  our  advance  was  extremely  difficult, 
even  for  officers  who  had  no  weights  to  carry  except 
their  revolvers.  They  were  wearing  nailed  shooting- 
boots,  and  had  both  hands  free  to  hang  on  to  bamboos 
when  climbing  up  or  sliding  down  narrow  paths  at  an 
angle  of  45  degrees.  You  can  understand  what  the 
strain  must  have  been  on  the  porters  with  their 
naked  feet  and  60-lb.  loads. 

"  At  times  we  advanced  perhaps  half  a  mile  in  the 


286  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

hour  when  cutting  our  way  through  the  virgin  forest ; 
at  other  times,  in  the  open  on  an  old  game  track,  we 
put  in  three  miles  an  hour.  Then,  again,  we  might 
march  for  hours  over  prairie  composed  of  long  grass, 
dotted  at  irregular  intervals  with  small  clumps  of 
timber  and  bush. 

"  The  distances  of  our  marches  varied  as  much 
as  did  the  nature  of  the  ground. 

"  As  an  example,  I  will  take  the  last  two  days 
between  the  Sotik  Post  and  this  station.  Having 
encamped  close  to  a  waterfall  thirteen  miles  from  the 
former — there  are  twenty-six  rivers  and  streams 
between  the  two — we  marched  from  2.45  a.m.  till 
past  11  a.m.  (I  don't  think  these  primitive  hours 
would  suit  some  of  our  lardy-dardy  swells  who  have 
been  slap-dashing  at  Ascot  during  the  past  week.) 
After  about  six  miles,  my  section,  consisting  of  31 
rifles  and  9  porters,  headed  for  this  station,  while 
the  main  body  swung  to  the  right  towards  the  Mau 
Escarpment.  On  arriving  here  a  scout  says  that  I 
did  them  a  good  turn,  for  a  body  of  the  enemy  with 
cattle,  who  intended  circling  round  Kericho  into 
Boret  country,  immediately  on  seeing  me,  turned 
sharp  to  the  right  towards  Mau,  and,  I  hope,  into  the 
Major's  arms. 

"  Before  reaching  my  camping-ground  on  the 
Merri-Merri  river,  I  met  a  Soudanese  officer  with  some 
rifles,  Masai  levies,  a  prisoner,  and  some  captured 
goats,  three  of  which  I  annexed  for  my  men's 
dinner,  a  luxury  which  they  appreciated,  as  they 
had  nothing  but  a  little  flour  and  rice  in  their 
haversacks. 

"  Starting  at  daylight,  which  is  some  considerable 


FIGHTING  AND  SPORT  IN  EAST  AFRICA   287 

time  before  sunrise,  I  got  here  in  a  little  over  four 
hours. 

"  As  a  proof  that  the  show  is  not  exactly  grouse-pie 
and  '92  Moet,  I  had  to  do  it  on  a  tiny  piece  of  dry 
bread  and  a  few  spoonfuls  of  cold  coffee  out  of  a 
jagged  sardine  tin,  so  my  waistbelt  was  fairly  loose 
when  I  met  the  collector,  Mr.  Ainsworth,  at  the 
river  which  flows  below  the  encampment.  Although 
I  had  a  pony,  I  think  it  always  best  to  march  with 
one's  men. 

"Nairobi,  July  21,  1905. 

"  Having  rested  two  days  at  Kericho,  which  is  a 
small  up-country  station  with  a  strong  boma  and 
two  watch-towers,  which  would  make  it  pretty  secure 
from  any  ordinary  attack,  on  July  27  I  did  the  six- 
teen miles  to  Fort  Ternan  on  the  Uganda  Railway 
in  four  and  a  half  hours,  which,  considering  that  one 
escarpment  was  the  stiffest  going  in  the  whole  month's 
march,  was  not  bad  travelling  on  foot,  and,  I  hope, 
justified  the  report  of  the  corporal — whom  I  had 
sent  on  ahead  two  mornings  previously  to  announce 
to  the  sub-collector  the  strength  of  the  party  he  was 
to  expect.  On  being  asked  the  name  of  the  officer  in 
command,  he  replied,  '  I  don't  know  his  name  ;  he 
may  be  an  official  from  Nairobi  or  Mombasa  ;  he  is  a 
bit  old,  hut  he  can  go.' 

"  For  the  whole  month,  all  day  and  every  day,  I 
wore  a  light  pair  of  shooting-boots,  by  Dowie  and 
Marshall,  of  the  Strand,  cut  like  ammunition  boots, 
to  facilitate  pulling  on  and  off  in  wet  weather,  and 
we  crossed  some  forty  streams  ;  they  had  Scafe's 
patent  soles  and  about  thirty  medium-sized  nails. 


288  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

and  at  the  finish  signs  of  wear  and  tear  were  almost 
imperceptible. 

"  I  have  in  my  possession  three  photographs — a 
good  one  of  Masai  levies,  and  a  moderate  one  of  some 
K.A.R/s  crossing  a  stream.  The  five  former  are 
lion-killers,  and  wear  lion-skin  head-dress,  which  I 
fancy  must  be  pretty  hot,  as  on  one  occasion  I  saw 
a  warrior  in  charge  of  a  prisoner  making  the  latter 
wear  it.  One  might  have  imagined  it  just  as  likely 
that  Lord  Roberts  would  tell  off  an  orderly  to  carry 
his  Field-Marshal's  baton.  I  have  also  a  photo- 
graph of  Sir  Donald  Stewart's  horse  '  Whale,'  on 
which  I  hope  to  win  the  steeplechase  on  the  29th 
inst. 

"  I  am  pleased  to  hear  that  I  succeeded,  two  days 
before  reaching  Kericho,  in  driving  a  considerable 
number  of  cattle  towards  Major  Pope  Hennessy,  who 
captured  them,  which  made  the  total  of  cows,  bulls, 
and  bullocks  up  to  2,400,  and  Sotiks  killed  nearly, 
if  not  quite,  100,  including  one  biggish  chief.  This 
death  occurred  on  the  second  day  after  we  got  in 
touch  with  them,  though  we  did  not  know  it  at  the 
time.  I  think  he  must  have  been  killed  by  one  of  the 
patrols,  as  I  was  lying  between  the  two  maxims,  and 
did  not  see  him  fall  in  the  bush. 

"  Our  casualties  were  very  few,  though  death 
from  poisoned  arrows  was  most  painful.  As  an 
illustration  the  last  Masai  killed  was  shot  from 
about  ten  paces  through  the  shoulder  into  the  lung. 
The  doctor  was  close  by,  and  in  the  extraction  of 
the  arrow  the  barb  dragged  a  portion  of  lung  out  of 
the  wounded  man's  back,  and,  though  strychnine  was 
at  once  injected,  the  man  died  shrieking  with  agony 


FIGHTING  AND  SPORT  IN  EAST  AFRICA   28^ 

in  under  six  minutes.     And  it  takes  a  lot  to  make  a 
Masai  give  tongue,  as  he  is  a  gallant  savage. 

"  We  all  carried  a  bootlace  as  a  ligature,  in  case  we 
were  hit  on  a  limb,  but  of  course  it  was  useless  for  a 
body-hit,  and  the  poison  was  nice  and  fresh,  as  each 
Sotik  carried  a  species  of  small  glue-pot,  into  which 
he  dips  the  arrow-head  before  firing. 

"  On  July  27  and  29  the  East  Africa  Turf  Club 
held  their  annual  races,  which  proved  a  complete 
success.  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  win  three  races 
of!  the  reel,  including  the  first  steeplechase  ever  run 
in  British  East  Africa,  on  a  horse  called  *  The  Whale,' 
the  property  of  Sir  Donald  Stewart ;  and  the  ovation 
the  gallant  little  bay  received  as  he  romped  in  showed 
how  that  officer  was  appreciated  by  those  under  his 
command.  In  this  race  the  Hon.  B.  Cole,  an  old  9th 
Lancer,  took  rather  a  nasty  toss.  His  mount,  in 
order  to  avoid  a  horse  which  had  fallen  in  front  of 
him,  galloped  through  a  wing,  driving  a  stake  into 
his  jaw,  from  which  two  bits  of  bone  had  to  be  re- 
moved. 

"  Lady  de  Crespigny  arrived  from  Mombasa  in 
time  to  attend  the  Commissioner's  luncheon  on  the 
course  before  the  first  race  of  the  second  day,  and 
to  see  family  history  repeated — viz.  father  and  son 
sporting  silk  in  the  same  race. 

"In  the  evening  the  Turf  Club  held  a  ball,  which 
was  a  most  brilliant  success. 

"  On  the  following  Monday  the  King's  African 
Rifles  gave  a  gymkhana,  at  which  one  event  was  the 
Sotik  Cup  for  the  three  Somali  ponies  which  went 
through  the  expedition.  It  was  almost  reduced  to 
a  match,  as  early  in  the  march  the  Major  nearly  lost 

19 


290  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

his  pony,  which  fell  into  a  deep  cutting  with  a  heavy- 
rush  of  water  that  nearly  drowned  it.  The  Ascaris 
buzzed  round  it  like  blue-bottle  flies,  but,  though 
brave  men,  they  are  ignorant  of  handling  horses. 
Rescue  came  in  the  form  of  a  Gordon  Highlander,  a 
stalwart  Ross-shire  man,  great  at  tug-of-war  at  the 
Strathpefler  meeting,  limbs  like  Donald  Dinnie,  the 
great  caber-tosser  and  shot-putter  in  the  'sixties  and 
'seventies.  With  a  mighty  heave,  out  came  poor 
little  '  Ha  track,'  as  he  was  called,  like  a  cork. 

"  My  mount  swerving  badly  two  or  three  times  in 
the  straight  run  in,  I  got  beaten  by  a  nose.  However, 
a  match  was  promptly  arranged  on  the  spot,  which 
I  won  by  a  length. '^ 

The  next  entry  in  my  diary  is  dated  August  5, 
and  runs  as  follows  : — 

"  August  5,  1905. 

"  A  wire  has  just  been  received  from  Voi,  220  miles 
from  here,  saying  that  two  man-eating  lions  have 
created  a  panic  in  that  neighbourhood,  so  my  son 
and  I  are  just  of!  to  see  if  we  cannot  add  their  jackets 
to  our  collection. 

"  The  Sotik  affair  is  practically  ancient  history. 
The  Masai  levies  have  received  their  share  of  the 
cattle,  and  the  remainder  are  to  be  sold  in  Naivasha 
towards  the  end  of  the  month.  The  war  indemnity 
takes  the  form  of  the  enemy  making  a  road  from 
the  Sotik  post  to  Molo  Station.  The  success  of  the 
expedition  seems  to  have  established  a  panic  among 
the  Nandi  chiefs,  and  what  at  one  time  looked  rather 
like  a  heavy  job  is  likely  now  to  fizzle  out. 

"  Our  trip  to  Voi  was  a  failure,  the  lions  not  being 


FIGHTING  AND  SPORT  IN  EAST  AFRICA   291 

properly  located,  and  all  the  surrounding  country 
was  thick  bush.  Even  in  the  comparatively  thin 
portions  of  the  bush,  the  knives  of  the  savages  had, 
at  times,  to  be  called  into  requisition.  There  was 
a  considerable  amount  of  various  spoors,  but  as  we 
saw  but  little  game,  it  obviously  harboured  in  the 
daytime  in  bush,  which  is  impenetrable  to  an  un- 
armoured  pedestrian.  My  son  got  a  long  double 
snap-shot  at  two  half -grown  cubs,  and  killed  a  spitting 
snake.  This  reptile  makes  remarkably  accurate  shots 
up  to  five  or  six  yards,  going  for  the  eyes.  Those 
hit  are  blinded  for  a  week — olive  oil  being  about  the 
best  antidote.  We  saw  a  lioness  half  a  mile  from 
Simba  (Swahili  for  lion)  Station,  just  emerging  from 
a  bed  of  rushes  for  her  evening  prowl.  At  Voi  I 
remained  up  all  night  on  a  chair.  About  half  an  hour 
before  daylight  a  lion  roared  a  quarter  of  a  mile  off,  my 
son  making  almost  as  much  row  at  my  elbow  snoring  ; 
and  a  leopard  took  a  crow,  which  I  had  shot  on  the 
previous  afternoon,  out  of  the  compound.  There  was 
no  moon. 

"  We  saw  several  rhinoceroses  from  the  train.  A 
few  stations  from  here  we  were  warned  that  one  was 
viewed  close  to  the  railway  on  the  south  side,  which  is 
preserved,  so  we  arranged  for  the  train  to  be  stopped 
for  us  and  our  gun-bearers,  should  he  have  crossed  to 
the  north  and  still  be  in  sight.  Unhappily  he  was 
grazing  opposite  mile  319,  on  the  wrong  side,  and  we 
had  no  horses.  If  we  had  had,  we  could  have  got 
him  easily,  as  one  of  us  could  have  hidden  in  the  long 
grass  on  the  north  side  while  the  other  tickled  him 
up  with  a  Derringer  or  Mauser  pistol,  when  he  would 
have  charged  for  a  certainty. 


292  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

"  This  afternoon  there  is  a  cricket  match  on  the 
Gymkhana  ground,  and  a  meeting  of  the  Tent  Club 
at  the  race  stand,  when  those  who  prefer  the  pig- 
skin to  leather-hunting  will  forgather.  The  meet 
may  be  a  fairly  big  one,  but  most  will  only  be  on- 
lookers, and  only  four  or  five  of  us  carry  spears. 

"  An  Ascari  in  the  Sotik  expedition  had  a  unique 
experience.  He  was  a  boy  in  Hicks  Pasha's  army 
when  it  was  annihilated,  became  a  Dervish,  and  fought 
against  us  at  Omdurman,  was  recaptured  by  us,  and 
is  now  a  loyal  soldier  in  the  3rd  King's  African 
Rifles." 

The  following  account  of  the  Tent  Club  Meeting 
appeared  in  the  Times  of  East  Africa : — 

*'  The  inaugural  meet  of  the  above  was  at  the 
Grand  Stand  on  the  racecourse,  adjoining  which  to 
the  E.N.E.  is  what  is  locally  known  as  the  Pig- 
Ground. 

"  There  were  present  at  the  meet  Lady  Champion 
de  Crespigny,  Mrs.  Stordy,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Russell 
Bowker  on  wheels  and  mounted.  Sir  Claude  and 
Captain  V.  Champion  de  Crespigny,  A.D.C.,  Messrs. 
Percival  and  Griess,  with  spears,  and  Mr.  and  Miss 
Allen,  Mrs.  Sanderson,  Messrs.  Kenyon  Slaney,  Allen 
Watson,  Buckland  (an  old  Master  of  the  Bombay 
hounds  and  veteran  pig-sticker)  and  Goldfinch,  with- 
out spears.  We  were  not  far  clear  of  the  racecourse, 
when  several  pigs  were  on  foot,  unfortunately  one 
grand  tusker  slipping  away  across  the  open  near 
Lady  de  Crespigny 's  carriage,  unviewed,  or  from  the 
line  he  took,  he  would  have  led  us  over  the  best  of 
galloping  ground  in  the  neighbourhood  with  short 
grass,  so  we  had  to  content  ourselves  with  less  noble 


FIGHTING  AND  SPORT  IN  EAST  AFRICA   293 

quarry,  each  selecting  his  own  pig.  Our  bursts  were 
short,  but  though  we  succeeded  in  turning  several 
pigs,  the  long  grass  towards  the  papyrus  fairly  beat 
us. 

After  a  short  dart  after  a  cheetah,  who  was  again 
favoured  by  the  tussocks  and  high  grass,  we  formed 
line  for  a  fresh  draw — a  big  boar  plunging  through 
the  barbed  wire  and  gaining  on  us  by  crossing  a 
watercourse,  got  unsighted  after  leading  us  about  a 
mile ;  but  a  fresh  pig  almost  immediately  springing 
up  we  raced  after  it,  the  A.D.C.  on  the  '  Whale,*  who 
was  none  the  worse  for  his  gallant  victory  on  Saturday, 
getting  first  spear  within  yard  of  an  earth. 

"  '  After  scratching  away  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
a  hind  leg  was  espied,  when  the  A.D.C.  promptly  took 
a  header  into  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  his  boots  just 
protruding — these  were  immediately  seized  by  the 
Game  Ranger,  and  after  a  desperate  tug  for  dear 
life  out  came  ten  feet  of  trooper  and  wartling.  The 
brindle  hound  Jack  and  two  other  dogs  settling  some 
little  difference,  hurricane  fighting  over  the  soldier's 
body,  as  he  was  being  extracted,  as  if  they  hadn't  got 
the  whole  of  the  Athi  plains  adjoining  for  an  arena. 

"  '  So  ended  a  pleasant  afternoon's  ride ;  but  in  a 
week's  time  when  more  grass  has  been  burnt,  we  may 
anticipate  some  ripping  gallops.' 

"  On  August  17,  the  Commissioner's  party  of  five 
left  for  a  '  Safari '  which  had  been  anticipated  for 
some  little  time,  with  no  little  pleasure,  though  for 
Sir  Donald  himself  a  considerable  amount  of  duty  was 
blended  with  it — inspecting  stations,  their  accounts, 
police,  etc.,  settling  boundaries,  receiving  chiefs  with 
their  followers,  and  numerous  and  various  presents. 


294  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

the  latter  of  which  inchided  enough  live  stock  to  set 
up  a  menagerie. 

"  The  principal  chiefs  were  Karuni,  Murad  and 
Kabala  Bala,  the  latter  being  as  fine  a  specimen  of 
fighting  Masai  as  I  have  ever  clapped  eyes  upon,  a 
leader  who  would  instil  the  most  implicit  confidence 
in  his  followers  had  he  the  chance  of  leading  a  forlorn 
hope  or  a  second  Balaclava  charge.  To  this  day  they 
talk  of  his  indomitable  courage  when,  after  being  left 
for  dead  with  his  skull  smashed  in,  eye  kicked  out, 
lower  part  of  ear  cut  off,  he  crawled — travelling  by 
night  for  many  nights  subsisting  on  sugar-cane — back 
to  his  native  kraal. 

"  A  party  of  friends  awaited  us  at  the  drive  leading 
up  to  the  '  Homestead,"  and  waved  us  '  bon  voyage.* 
Our  next  check  was  at  the  admirably  arranged  farm 
of  Messieurs  Felix  and  Faure,  which  showed  every 
indication  of  a  most  prosperous  future,  on  to  our 
first  camp  at  Kiambu.  In  the  evening  we  tried  for 
duck,  but  only  got  a  ducking,  as  rain  came  down  in 
torrents. 

"  Our  *  Safari '  lasted  five  weeks,  and  took  us  over 
a  great  variety  of  ground.  It  would  be  useless  to  go 
through  it  in  detail,  as  much  of  the  country  has  not 
been  mapped,  and  the  camping-grounds  which  were 
logged  were  mainly  local  names. 

"  The  creme  de  la  creme  of  the  shooting  was  ex- 
pected on  the  trans-Tana  plains,  and  such  proved  to 
be  the  case  ;  but  you  must  not  judge  of  what  we  did 
kill  by  what  we  might  have  killed.  Our  grandchildren 
have  to  be  thought  of,  so  our  licences  limit  us,  among 
other  things,  to  two  rhinos,  one  bull  buffalo,  and  one 
bull  eland.     There  are  heavy  penalties  for  making 


FIGHTING  AND  SPORT  IN  EAST  AFRICA   295 

mistakes,  some  of  which  are  extremely  difficult  to 
avoid,  with  forfeiture  of  trophies.  In  long  grass,  etc., 
it  is  at  times  almost  impossible  to  distinguish  the 
sexes,  especially  in  the  case  of  single  beasts.  Should 
you  come  across  a  herd  of  elands,  there  is  not  much 
difficulty  in  picking  out  the  bulls,  as  they  are  so  much 
bluer  in  colour. 

"  The  best  of  Italian  sportsmen,  the  Marquis  of 
Pizzardi,  who  joined  us  for  a  day  or  two,  had  recently 
made  a  mistake  in  killing  a  barren  cow  buffalo,  which 
he  at  once  reported  in  the  most  honourable  sportsman- 
like manner.  He  had,  of  course,  to  pay  his  fine,  and 
there  was  a  good  deal  of  friendly  badinage  over  it,  but 
he  was  greatly  pleased  when  the  Commissioner  said 
he  might  keep  the  head.  If  an  old  Shikari,  like  him, 
makes  a  genuine  mistake,  how  much  more  liable  would 
a  man  of  lesser  experience !  I  have  rarely  come  across 
a  better  sportsman.  He  left  the  Italian  Cavalry  to 
kill  the  man  who  had  killed  his  brother,  and  I  shall 
hope  to  see  him  in  London,  as  he  has  accepted  an 
invitation  for  a  night  at  the  National  Sporting  Club. 
This,  apparently,  he  thinks  may  prove  somewhat 
insipid,  as  he  is  particularly  anxious  to  witness  an 
old-fashioned  knuckle-fight. 

"  Our  Askaris  have  wonderful  sight,  and  love  their 
masters  to  fire  at  something,  and  as  they  do  not 
have  to  pay  the  fines,  are  not  very  particular  at  what, 
especially  as  they  invariably  get  as  much  as  they 
want  of  the  flesh,  of  which  they  can  consume  huge 
quantities.  In  fact  there  is  a  tradition  that  one  des- 
cribed a  kongoni,  which  weighs  at  least  150  lbs.,  as  an 
unsatisfactory  sort  of  a  beast,  being  '  rather  too  much 
for  one  man  to  eat,  but  not  enough  for  two." 


296  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

"  On  one  occasion  we  saw  a  head  poking  out  of 
some  long  grass,  which  my  gun-bearer  solemnly 
affirmed  was  a  bull  buffalo,  so  I  took  up  a  position  on  a 
slight  incline,  sending  three  or  four  men — we  gener- 
ally had  some  porters  handy  to  carry  in  the  game — to 
beat  up  to  me.  Soon  I  could  see  the  high  grass  waving 
as  some  big  beast  advanced  towards  me,  and  then  out 
came,  within  easy  shot,  a  cow-rhino  and  calf.  Of 
course,  as  she  did  not  charge  me,  I  did  not  fire. 

"  Close  to  this  spot  I  shot  a  bush  buck.  It  lay  on 
the  ground  apparently  dying.  When  my  Askaris 
went  up  to  cut  its  throat,  it  sprang  up,  and  with 
difficulty  staggered  into  some  high  grass  close  by,  the 
three  of  us  plunging  in  after  it,  when  out  rushed  three 
rhinos,  one  of  my  Askaris  throwing  himself  into  a 
hollow  in  the  ground  to  avoid  having  daylight  drilled 
through  him. 

"  My  son  and  I  were  each  charged  twice,  and  I 
think  that  two  of  the  rhinos  were  as  close  as  they  well 
could  be  without  serious,  if  not  fatal,  damage. 

"  On  the  first  occasion  the  A.D.C.  was  riding 
across  an  almost  dry  water  bed  to  join  Mr.  Slaney 
and  myself,  as  a  lion  had  just  been  viewed  ahead, 
when  a  savage  grunt  in  the  long  grass  just  enabled 
his  horse  to  swerve  in  time  to  avoid  the  charge,  the 
horn  missing  the  rider's  leg  by  two  or  three  feet. 

"  The  rhino  having  ascended  a  hill  towards  some 
plains,  I  galloped  after  it  on  the  hurdle-racer  Mary, 
hoping  to  make  rings  round  it  till  the  others  came 
up  with  their  rifles,  but  unfortunately  he  turned  sharp 
round  to  the  left  into  some  impenetrable  jungle,  and 
was  lost  to  us. 

"  That  afternoon  we  had  some  remarkably  good 


FIGHTING  AND  SPORT  IN  EAST  AFRICA   297 

guinea-fowl  shooting  at  Elder's  Camp,  where  we  met 
Mr.  Swift,  a  settler,  looking  none  the  worse  for  a 
really  nasty  fall  which  he  got  in  the  Nairobi  Steeple- 
chase. As  I  passed  him  at  the  fourth  fence  from 
home  he  was  lying  flat  on  his  face  knocked  out, 
and  one  foot  hung  up  in  the  stirrup. 

*'  The  next  time  we  were  charged  we  were  close 
together,  on  the  line  of  a  wounded  buffalo,  when  a  cow 
and  calf,  which  we  had  previously  passed,  moved  from 
the  scent  of  some  porters  and  came  top  speed  bang 
into  our  party  of  ten.  Of  course  we  only  had  soft- 
nosed  bullets  in  our  rifles,  which  have  as  a  rule  about 
as  much  effect  on  a  rhino  as  a  peashooter.  To  within 
three  paces  she  was  coming  straight  at  me,  and  I  was 
just  about  to  drop  my  rifle  and  play  the  amateur 
matador,  when  she  swerved  slightly  to  her  left, 
which  gave  me  the  chance  of  a  neck  shot,  of  which 
naturally  I  was  prompt  to  avail  myself,  and  at  two 
paces  from  the  muzzle  of  my  "303  she  fell  stone-dead 
with  her  neck  broken,  the  A.D.C.  being  about  the  same 
distance  on  the  other  side.  Of  course  her  poor  little 
calf  blindly  charged  in  her  wake,  and  a  fool  of  an 
Askari  shot  it,  though  Colonel  Harrison  shouted  to 
him  not  to  fire.  This  was  a  thousand  pities,  as  it 
would  have  been  worth  many  hundreds  of  pounds  if  it 
could  have  been  reared  by  hand,  which  could  have 
probably  been  done,  as  Chief  Murad  had  a  large  herd 
of  cows  a  few  miles  off. 

"  The  next  occasion  was  not  such  a  close  affair,  a 
rhino  having  spoilt  my  shoulder-shot  by  swinging  its 
head  towards  me  as  I  pressed  the  trigger,  so  my 
bullet  only  caused  amioyance,  and  it  charged.  How- 
ever, another  shot  at  thirty  yards,  followed  by  a  solid 


298  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

from  my  jungle  gun  at  fifteen,  and  the  gallant  beast 
bit  the  dust. 

"  If  you  are  wrong  for  the  wind,  a  rhino's  sense 
of  smell  is  marvellous.  On  one  occasion  the  A.D.C. 
and  I,  when  riding  alone  after  eland,  saw  a  rhino  lying 
in  the  grass  on  the  farther  side  of  a  valley.  When 
we  were  fully  a  quarter  of  a  mile  off  it  suddenly  got 
our  wind,  sprang  up,  and  made  off.  They  are  almost 
blind,  their  eyes  being  of  hardly  any  service  to  them 
beyond  a  very  few  yards  range. 

"  The  last  rhino  which  I  shot  must  have  winded 
our  mixed  bag  of  porters  at  least  half  a  mile  off, 
which,  if  you  only  knew  them,  would  not  surprise 
you  ;    they  are  highly  pungent. 

"  Then  again,  if  you  are  down  wind  it  is  surprising 
how  close  you  can  get  to  them.  On  one  occasion  we 
suddenly  came  on  a  cow  and  a  calf,  when  the  A.D.C. 
crept  close  up  to  them  with  his  camera,  I  standing 
over  him  with  a  rifle  in  case  they  charged,  and  he  got 
quite  a  good  snapshot,  before  they  winded  us  and 
bolted  in  the  opposite  direction. 

"  Some  time  back  I  mentioned  the  vitality  of  a  bush 
buck.  All  the  gazelles  possess  it  to  an  extraordinary 
extent.  As  an  example,  one  day  the  A.D.C.  knocked 
over  a  fine  impalla,  with,  so  far  as  one  can  judge,  a 
beautifully  placed  bullet  just  over  the  shoulder-blade, 
but  it  was  hardly  on  the  ground  before  it  was  up  and 
off.  In  answer  to  his  shout,  '  Try  and  cut  it  off/  I, 
being  the  better  mounted,  did  my  best  for  fully  four 
miles  over  rough  ground,  the  blood  pouring  down 
both  shoulder-blades.  As  the  impalla  in  no  way 
slackened  its  pace  and  I  had  lost  my  party,  and  was 
riding  directly  from  our  camp,  I  reluctantly  reined 


FIGHTING  AND  SPORT  IN  EAST  AFRICA  299 

up.  No  doubt  when  the  wounded  beast  once  lay  down 
it  would  get  stiff  and  become  food  for  hyenas,  etc. 
Riding  my  own  heelway,  and  using  a  powerful  whistle, 
I  eventually  met  my  party.  It  is  no  joke  getting  lost 
in  the  jungle  without  food  or  water ;  but  it  is  worse 
still  if  you  take  a  toss  and  lose  your  horse,  which  is 
just  as  likely  to  join  the  first  herd  of  zebra  it  comes 
across — and  there  are  plenty  of  them — for  it  is  im- 
probable that  a  search  party  would  be  sent  out  till 
the  following  morning.  A  horse  did  this  at  Naivasha 
about  five  weeks  before  Nairobi  races,  and  it  was  a 
month  before  he  was  caught,  and  uncommonly  lean 
he  was,  too,  about  the  ribs.  Nevertheless,  much 
to  our  astonishment,  judiciously  ridden  by  his  owner 
Mr.  Seymour,  late  3rd  Hussars,  he  won  his  race. 

"  Naturally,  there  is  very  little  twilight  under  the 
equator,  so  if  you  mistake  your  distance  from  camp 
it  is  easy  to  find  yourself  let  in  for  a  long,  rough  ride 
over  ground  nearly,  though  not  quite,  so  bad  as  where 
we  were  pig-sticking  last  year  in  Morocco.  The 
acumen  of  the  horses  in  picking  their  way,  hardly 
ever  putting  a  foot  wrong,  proves  them  to  be  a  long 
way  in  front,  in  intelligence,  of  many  so-called 
Christians. 

'*  Of  one  rough  ride  I  have  a  vivid  recollection, 
though  it  was  a  daylight  one,  but  the  A.D.C.  had  to 
do  it  some  hdurs  afterwards  in  the  dark.  After  a  long 
stalk,  he  had  got  a  magnificent  buffalo  with  a  clean 
shot  through  the  throat. 

**  He  remained  with  it  while  I  rode  off  to  the  camp, 
many  miles  off,  for  porters,  piloted  by  a  Kikuyu  guide. 
After  going  for  about  a  mile  I  came  across  a  herd  of 
eland,  headed  by  a  real '  monarch  of  the  glen,'  which 


300  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

I  fortunately  got  in  one  shot.  Our  lucky  star  must 
have  been  in  the  ascendant  that  day,  as  we  got  a 
rhino,  a  buffalo,  and  an  eland  all  with  single  shots, 
and  all  with  soft-nosed  'SOS's.  I  think  that  eland 
will  prove  to  be  a  Tana  record,  though  Mr.  Jackson 
killed  one  of  better  measurement  near  Mount  Kili- 
manjaro, which  is  to  German  East  Africa  what  Kenya 
is  to  British.  We  had  some  splendid  views  of  the 
latter  when  in  the  Nyeri  district. 

"  Kenya  was  climbed  a  few  years  ago,  with  the 
greatest  difficulty,  by  some  members  of  the  Alpine 
Club. 

'*  Continuing  my  ride,  I  eventually  reached  camp, 
having  left  an  Askari  with  the  dead  eland,  but  as  it 
was  then  long  past  lunch-time  I  knew  that  those  who 
were  left  out  with  the  game,  and  those  who  were 
despatched  to  bring  it  in,  could  not  possibly  be  back 
till  long  after  sundown ;  so  as  soon  as  it  was  dark,  I 
kept  a  big  fire  going,  and  at  intervals  coloured  rockets 
were  sent  up.  We  could  just  hear  the  A.D.C. 
answer  them  with  shots  from  his  revolver.  How- 
ever, all  duly  arrived  after  a  hard  day's  work. 

"  A  wart-hog  is  another  gallant  beast,  which  will, 
at  times,  carry  away  an  enormous  amount  of  lead, 
and  go  for  you  if  wounded.  As  an  example,  one  after- 
noon we  were  on  our  way  to  try  for  hippopotami, 
three  jumped  up  in  long  grass  and  started  to  race 
past  us,  I  being  at  the  time  eighty  yards  behind 
the  A.D.C,  cut  the  throat  of  one  who  rolled  over 
without  a  motion,  a  fluky  shot ;  the  A.D.C.  wounded 
a  sow,  who  at  once  charged  the  gun-bearer  standing 
to  his  right ;  a  second  shot  made  an  awful  mess 
of  her  shoulder,  but  did  not  stop  her ;  but  a  third, 


p.  300] 


A    FINE    ELAND. 


FIGHTING  AND  SPORT  IN  EAST  AFRICA  301 

through  her  head,  killed  her  stone-dead  at  the  gun- 
bearer's  feet. 

"  We  had  two  charming  dogs  out  with  us,  known 
as  '  Jack  '  and  '  Toto,'  belonging  to  Mr.  Hyde  Baker, 
a  nephew  of  Sir  Samuel  of  that  ilk,  the  great  traveller 
and  game  shot.  Mr.  Baker  being  on  leave  in  England, 
they  were  left  in  charge  of  the  A.D.C.  '  Jack  '  has 
been  a  great  fighter  in  his  day,  and  has  many  honour- 
able scars.  He  hasf  been  mauled  both  by  lion  and 
leopard,  and  a  tope  once  drove  its  horn  in  by  the  back 
ribs,  travelling  along  the  body,  and  coming  out  behind 
the  shoulders.  Notwithstanding  these  vicissitudes, 
such  is  his  strength,  that  if  once  he  can  pin  a  wart-hog 
in  an  earth,  and  a  man  can  grip  his  hind  legs,  out 
come  both  dog  and  pig. 

"  His  various  encounters  have  made  him  a  little 
less  reckless  than  in  his  salad  days,  for  I  noticed  on 
one  occasion,  when  I  had  rolled  over  rather  a  fine 
Neumann  hartebeeste,  two  hundred  yards  from  the 
column,  out  dashed  the  dogs,  for  the  word  *  discipline' 
was  not  in  their  vocabulary.  The  old  campaigner 
allowed  his  younger  and  less  experienced  companion 
to  seize,  with  the  courage  of  ignorance,  the  wounded 
antelope  by  the  throat,  while  he  worried  at  the  other 
end. 

"  The  amount  of  game  of  various  species,  which 
we  could  kill,  was  practically  unlimited,  the  water- 
buck  being  distinctly  the  grandest ;  but,  unless  we 
wanted  a  particular  trophy,  we  waited  till  we  got 
fairly  close  to  our  new  camping-ground,  as  the  porters 
had  first  to  carry  their  60-lb.  load  from  camp  to  camp, 
and  then  go  back  to  carry  in  the  venison,  of  which 
they  invariably  received  a  liberal  portion. 


302  FOETY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

"  We  had  no  luck  with  the  lions  ;  in  fact,  not  a 
shot  was  fired  at  one.  In  addition  to  the  one  seen  by 
Mr.  Slaney,  we  saw  a  lioness  and  cub  at  the  end  of 
our  march  half  a  mile  from  mile-post  400  on  the 
Uganda  Railway,  but  before  the  mounted  men  could 
get  up  to  her  she  had  disappeared  in  the  bush. 

"  Our  big-game  bag  consisted  of  8  rhino,  1  hippo, 
3  buffalo,  and  4  eland.  I  was  allowed  a  third  rhino, 
as  the  one  which  gratuitously  charged  us  had  poor 
horns,  and  was  only  shot  in  self-defence,  and  I  was 
lucky  to  get  the  hippo,  my  first  bullet  catching  it 
above  the  nostrils,  and  the  second  under  the  eye, 
which  turned  it  feet  upwards  at  once.  If  you  only 
mortally  wound  them,  and  they  sink,  they  take, 
sometimes,  many  hours  to  rise,  and  you  lose  them  if 
on  the  march.  This  happened  at  Meranga,  where 
Sir  Donald  got  his  only  rhino.  My  son  and  I  pumped 
no  end  of  lead  into  the  head  of  an  obviously  dying 
hippo.  The  next  morning  the  natives  reported  that 
there  was  not  one  dead  ;  but  as  we  had  marched  they 
had  probably  eaten  it,  as  they  fight  like  wolves  over 
the  flesh,  or  maybe  they  were  afraid  to  cross  to  a 
shallow  hidden  in  an  island,  for  on  my  return  a  week 
later  the  number  of  vultures  perched  on  adjoining 
trees  indicated  that  a  carcase  was  close  by. 

"  Some  of  our  dishes  might  astonish  whomso- 
ever may  be  the  successor  of  the  great  Soyer,  of 
Crimean  fame — such  as  rhino  and  hippo-tail  soup, 
ostrich-egg  omelette,  eland  and  kongoni  marrow- 
bone, etc. 

"  There  can  be  no  mistake  about  British  East 
Africa  being  a  grand  country  with  a  great  future, 
and,    if   the   present   game   regulations   are   strictly 


FIGHTING  AND  SPORT  IN  EAST  AFRICA  303 

enforced,   for  many  years  to  come    a    sportsman's 
happy  hunting-ground. 

"  Personally  I  may  consider  myself  extremely 
fortunate,  for,  as  a  Government  officer  remarked  to 
me,  '  During  your  five  months'  stay  you  have  done  far 
more  in  the  way  of  sport  than  I  have  in  five  years/ 

"  The  pleasure  I  had  derived  from  the  excellent 
sport  obtained  during  my  trip  in  East  Africa  was  sadly 
marred  by  the  news  of  Sir  Donald  Stewart's  death, 
which  we  received  by  cable  on  the  voyage  home. 

"  His  death  was  not  only  a  grievous  loss  to  those 
who  could  count  him  among  their  personal  friends, 
but  a  serious  blow  to  British  rule  in  East  Africa.  It 
was  once  said  of  him,  and  with  perfect  truth,  that 
what  he  did  not  know  of  protecting  and  governing 
the  peoples  of  Africa  was  scarcely  worth  troubling 
about.  He  had  only  been  fourteen  months  in  the 
Protectorate  at  the  time  of  his  death,  but  he  had  in 
that  short  time  acquired  a  thorough  grasp  of  the 
requirements  of  this  part  of  His  Majesty's  dominions. 
He  was  quick  to  realise  that  if  that  country  was  to 
become  a  white  man's  country,  some  drastic  changes 
must  be  introduced.  With  that  conviction  fixed  in 
his  mind,  he  lost  no  time  in  appointing  Commissions 
to  enquire  into  the  working  of  the  Land  Laws,  the 
Labour  Question,  and  that  of  Education. 

"  His  policy  with  regard  to  the  natives  was  one  in 
accordance  with  the  belief  that  a  firm  and  just  policy 
is  not  only  in  the  interest  of  good  government,  but 
also  in  the  end  the  more  humane  and  for  the  benefit 
of  the  natives  themselves.  The  expedition  against 
the  Sotik  was  a  case  in  point.  He  took  a  keen 
interest  also  in  the  welfare  of  the  settlers,  and  the 


304  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

development   of   the    agricultural   resources   of   the 
Protectorate. 

"  His  experience  of  the  African  continent  was 
unique  in  its  way,  and  full  of  excitement  and  variety. 
On  the  Gold  Coast  his  strong  personality  and  pluck 
brought  him  safely  through  many  dangers.  On  one 
occasion  he  and  his  escort  were  surrounded  by  a 
threatening  horde  of  savages.  Luckily,  Sir  Donald 
kept  his  head,  and  refrained  from  giving  the  order 
to  his  followers  to  fire.  Had  he  done  so  the  chances 
are  that  he  and  his  escort  would  have  been  annihilated 
to  a  man.  But  he  didn't,  and  that  particular  native 
rising  was  put  down  by  a  liberal  use  of  Sir  Donald's 
stick. 

"  He  was  a  chivalrous  friend,  and  the  kindest  and 
most  courteous  of  hosts.  He  was  always  most 
thoughtful  and  considerate  for  the  feelings  of  others. 
An  incident  that  occurred  before  I  left  Africa  will 
illustrate  this.  On  September  22  I  accompanied 
him  on  his  last  ride,  when  he  visited  Mr.  Percival's 
to  inspect  some  of  his  trophies.  On  his  way  home  he 
mentioned  feeling  a  bit  feverish,  and  did  not  turn  up 
to  dinner  that  night.  The  following  night  there  was 
to  be  a  dinner-party,  a  little  farewell  to  my  wife  and 
self,  with  the  King's  African  Rifles  band.  This  he 
insisted  should  take  place,  though  he  was  too  ill  to 
attend  it,  adding  that  the  sound  of  the  band  would 
cheer  him  up.  But  for  once  in  a  way  his  orders  were 
disobeyed." 

The  entry  which  I  see  I  made  in  my  diary  con- 
cerning the  Nandis,  turned  out  to  be  absolutely  correct, 
and  the  expedition  started  soon  after  I  had  left  for 
home.     Major  Pope  Hennessy,  who  was  in  command 


FIGHTING  AND  SPORT  IN  EAST  AFRICA   305 

of  one  of  the  columns,  afterwards  purchased  Sir 
Donald  Stewart's  gallant  little  horse  "  The  Whale," 
on  which,  as  will  be  remembered,  I  won  the  Nairobi 
Steeplechase, 

The  Nandi  rising  looked  serious  at  the  outset. 
News  of  Sir  Donald  Stewart's  death  reached  the  Wa 
Nandi  with  all  the  wonderful  speed  of  native  com- 
munication, and  was  made  the  occasion  of  a  great 
baraza,  at  which,  according  to  the  account  brought  by 
a  native,  the  head  Hybon  promised  his  excited  people 
success,  and  taking  a  live  goat,  first  cut  off  the  tail, 
saying,  "  Such  is  the  injury  the  English  have  wrought 
on  us,"  and  then  hacked  off  the  head,  crying,  "  So  have 
I  done  to  them — I  have  slain  their  great  lord," 

My  fourth  son,  Vierville,  who  was  with  this  ex- 
pedition, had  a  somewhat  exciting  adventure  with  a 
lioness,  while  after  big  game.  As  he  came  up  to  the 
lioness,  his  horse,  frightened  by  a  sudden  roar  from 
the  latter,  bolted,  and  the  saddle  slipping  round,  my 
son  fell,  one  of  his  feet  sticking  in  the  stirrup  ;  and 
he  was  dragged  a  considerable  distance.  However, 
his  foot  came  out  in  the  nick  of  time,  just  as  the 
lioness  sprang  at  him,  and  he  was  able  to  roll  her 
over  about  fifteen  yards  off. 

I  retain  very  pleasant  recollections  of  East  Africa 
as  a  "  happy  hunting-ground,"  and  would  ask  nothing 
better  than  to  take  another  trip  there  after  big  game 
one  of  these  days.  But  even  the  best  of  things  must 
come  to  an  end,  and  so,  after  several  glorious  months, 
I  duly  returned  to  England  and  civilisation  once 
more. 


20 


CHAPTER   XII 

RACING  BY  LAND   AND   AIR 

TUST  after  I  got  back  from  East  Africa  my  son 
Raul  brought  of!  a  double  victory  at  the  Alder- 
shot  meeting  in  November,  1905,  winning  the  Open 
Military  Steeplechase  with  Bay  Duchess,  ridden  by  his 
elder  brother  (and  a  very  fine  race  he  rode,  too  !)  and 
the  Three-year-old  Hurdle  Race  with  Warner.  The 
last  was  an  unexpected  victory,  as  Lady  Dunmow 
was  a  prime  favourite.  A  little  later,  at  Warwick, 
I  rode  his  horse  Prince  Talleyrand  in  the  Debdale 
Maiden  National  Hunt  Flat  Race,  finishing  second  to 
Mr.  0.  H.  Jones's  Armature. 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  discussion  about  this 
time  concerning  the  growing  scarcity  of  "  soldier 
jockeys."  There  is  no  doubt,  as  I  said  at  the  time, 
that  this  is  largely  due  to  the  fact  that  in  these  days 
the  gentleman  rider  does  not  work  half  hard  enough 
in  riding  in  his  early  morning  gallops.  As  the  late 
Jack  Jones  once  put  it,  "  These  soldier  officers  eat 
a  big  dinner,  go  to  the  theatre,  with  supper  to  follow, 
send  their  servants  with  their  kit-bags  to  Sandown,  and 
then  think  they  can  get  up  and  ride  races."  Person- 
ally, as  I  have  remarked  before,  I  have  always  been  a 
glutton  for  hard  exercise,  as  the  only  prescription  for 

306 


RACING   BY   LAND   AND   AIR         307 

keeping  really  fit ;  and  to  this  I  attribute  my  success 
in  being  able  to  ride  for  such  a  great  length  of  time 
without  getting  knocked  up.  The  regular  use  every 
morning  of  clubs  and  dumb-bells — the  latter  varying 
between  two  and  fifty-six  pounds — works  wonders  in 
this  respect,  and  a  cold  tub  before  breakfast  may  be 
held  indispensable  to  a  man  who  wants  to  keep 
himself  in  first-class  condition.  But,  in  addition  to 
this,  I  am  constantly  taking  more  severe  exercise  in  a 
variety  of  forms.  Cutting  furze  with  a  bill-hook, 
in  the  little  gorse  just  outside  my  house,  is  capital 
exercise  ;  so  is  thinning  out  the  branches  of  various 
trees  on  the  place  that  need  attention.  Quite  lately 
a  friend  tells  me  he  was  staggered  at  the  reply  made 
to  the  query,  "  Is  Sir  Claude  in  ?  "  "  He's  up  a  tree, 
sir."  I  was  hacking  away  at  an  old  willow,  about 
the  most  awkward  wood  there  is  to  cut,  owing  to  its 
sponginess. 

Pedestrianism  is  another  means  by  which  I  manage 
to  keep  myself  "  fit  "  all  the  year  round.  On  most 
days  I  do  a  little  mild  running,  something  in  the  way 
of  a  "  jog  trot."  Many  sportsmen  regard  walking 
with  genuine  horror ;  but  for  myself,  I  have  always 
been  very  fond  of  it,  whether  on  a  solitary  tramp  or 
with  a  companion.  A  short  while  ago  I  took  a  walk 
from  my  home  in  Essex  up  to  the  Grand  Hotel, 
London,  a  distance  of  forty-five  miles,  winning  there- 
by a  wager  of  no  less  than  half-a-crown ;  whilst 
between  breakfast  and  luncheon  I  trudged  over  to  a 
friend's  one  morning,  a  distance  of  twenty-six  miles  or 
so.  Even  more  recently  it  was  suggested  to  me  that 
I  should  back  myself,  without  any  special  training, 
to  walk  fifty  miles  in  a  day  along  an  ordinary  high 


308  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN^S  LIFE 

road.  The  reply  was  that  I  would  certainly  do  so 
any  day  for  a  moderate  stake.  The  task  ought  not 
to  be  a  difficult  one,  especially  in  decent  weather. 
Years  ago  I  Used  to  do  a  great  deal  of  walking  in 
London,  rarely — unless  greatly  pressed  for  time  or 
encumbered  with  luggage — resorting  to  a  conveyance. 
In  about  a  year  I  walked  the  best  part  of  two  thou- 
sand miles  of  London  pavement. 

But  apart  from  the  question  of  keeping  fit,  it  seems 
to  me  that  there  is  less  nowadays  of  that  healthy 
spirit  of  rivalry  which  formerly  animated  the  best 
"  gentleman  riders,"  such  as  "  Bay "  Middleton, 
Wenty  Hope-Johnstone,  and  Captain  L.  H.  Jones. 

Says  the  Daily  Telegraph  of  December  5,  1905,  in 
commenting  on  this  subject : 

"  A  wealth  of  interesting  matter  could  be  written 
around  the  riding  careers  of  famous  amateurs  of  the 
past,  amongst  the  most  sincerely  regretted  of  whom 
was  Captain  Middleton,  a  man  of  a  type  seldom 
met  with  nowadays.  He  was  universally  liked,  was 
passionately  fond  of  the  sport,  and  rode  with  a  deter- 
mination and  skill  born  of  genuine  enthusiasm.  If  he 
had  a  fault  as  a  rider  it  was  that  he  invariably  spurred 
his  mount  in  the  shoulder,  being  apparently  unable 
to  sit  his  horse  without  turning  his  toes  out.  His 
name  will  always  be  associated  with  that  of  Lord  of 
the  Harem,  upon  whom  he  won  races  innumerable. 
The  horse  was,  however,  more  than  once  steered  to 
victory  by  Captain  Hope-Johnstone,  whose  triumphs 
on  Champion  are  still  fresh  in  the  memory.  In  one 
season  he  won  no  fewer  than  ten  races  on  the  old 
grey,  who  became  quite  an  idol  with  the  public, 
not  only  on  account  of  his  gameness,  but  also  because 


RACING   BY   LAND   AND   AIR         309 

of  the  striking  figure  he  cut  when  galloping  in  a  field 
of  horses.  His  colour,  together  with  his  long,  flowing 
tail,  gave  rise  to  the  curious  impression  that  he  was 
flying  over  the  fences  like  a  swallow,  if  such  a  simile 
can  be  formulated.  Captain  Hope- Johnstone,  for  a 
tall  man,  was  a  very  graceful  horseman,  and  few  have 
had  an  experience  which  was  so  long  and  varied. 
He  more  than  once  steered  five  winners  in  the  day  ; 
though  Mr.  Arthur  Yates,  now  so  rotund  of  person, 
at  Kingsbury,  many  years  ago  rode  in  seven  events 
and  won  them  all.  The  two  gentlemen  named  once 
had  a  close  contest  for  premiership  amongst  success- 
ful jockeys,  and  two  better  or  more  representative 
specimens  of  the  bona  fide  amateur  could  not  be  found. 
One  of  the  most  brilliant  jockeys  of  his  time  was 
Captain  '  Roddy  '  Owen,  and  it  will  be  readily  con- 
ceded that  a  man  required  to  have  developed  more  than 
than  average  ability  to  be  able  to  hold  his  own  with  the 
brothers  Beasley,  Mr.  Arthur  Coventry,  Mr.  G.  Lamb- 
ton,  Captain  L.  H.  Jones,  and  Captain  W.  B.  Morris. 
In  later  years  it  is  questionable  if  he  had  a  superior, 
either  amateur  or  professional ;  and,  furthermore,  he 
was  an  excellent  judge  of  the  game,  as  was  evidenced 
by  his  choosing  to  ride  Father  O'Flynn  in  the  Grand 
National  in  the  face  of  several  eligible  mounts  which 
were  offered  to  him.  Mr.  Arthur  Coventry,  the 
present  starter,  built  up  a  great  reputation,  and  was 
equally  at  home  on  the  flat  or  over  a  country,  one  of 
his  most  notable  victories  being  that  gained  on  Bell- 
ringer,  in  the  Grand  National  Hunt  Steeplechase  at 
Derby,  when  Mr.  E.  P.  Wilson  was  second  on  Golden 
Cross  and  Captain  Middleton  third  on  Minotaur. 
Other  well-known  amateurs  who  rode  in  that  race 


310  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

may  be  mentioned  in  Mr.  W.  R.  Owen  and  Mr.  C.  J. 
Cunningham. 

"  A  very  fine  horseman,  and  one  who  was  prominent 
for  a  lengthy  period  of  years,  was  Captain  '  Doggy  ' 
Smith,  who  rode  Game  Chicken  to  victory  in  the 
Grand  National  Hunt  Steeplechase  in  1864,  and  was 
riding  in  the  Grand  National  at  Liverpool  so  late  as 
1882.  To  be  precise  he  piloted  Zoedone  into  third 
place,  behind  Seaman  and  Cyrus,  the  horse  winning 
the  '  blue  riband '  twelve  months  later,  in  the 
hands  of  its  owner.  Count  Kinsky.  It  was  said  that 
Captain  Smith  would  ride  anything,  and  not  only  was 
he  an  admirable  steeplechase  jockey,  but  no  one  went 
straighter  to  hounds,  and  he  was  on  all  kinds  of 
strange  animals.  Captain  Bewicke,  who  appeared 
in  the  saddle  to  within  quite  recently,  stood  out  by 
himself,  whilst  the  late  lamented  Captain  Reginald 
Ward  represented  the  very  best  kind  of  amateur 
rider.  He  was  always  inspired  by  an  enthusiastic 
devotion  to  steeplechasing  for  its  own  sake,  as  was 
shown  by  his  plucky  purchase  of  Cathal,  and  his 
gallant  attempts  to  win  the  Grand  National  on  him. 
The  disappearance  of  such  men  creates  a  void  which 
it  is  not  easy  to  fill,  and  one  can  only  regret  that  the 
glories  of  steeplechasing  are  not  so  pronounced  as  was 
the  case  when  those  enumerated  above  were  notable 
figures  in  the  land  of  sport.  Even  the  universities 
used  to  produce  riders  of  ability,  and  Mr.  Harry 
Custance,  most  esteemed  of  old-time  jockeys,  tells  of 
four  undergraduates  who  regularly  came  over  from 
Cambridge  to  take  part  in  the  meeting  at  Peter- 
borough. These  included  Mr.  J.  M.  Richardson,  who 
twice  won  the  Grand  National  on  Disturbance  and 


RACING    BY   LAND    AND    AIR         311 

Reugny  respectively.  He  turned  out  to  be  one  of 
the  best  gentleman  jockeys  known  to  history,  though 
few  could  have  prophesied  such  a  lustrous  career  for 
him  when  he  rode  at  the  little  hunt  meeting  at  Peter- 
borough. The  other  three  undergrads  were  Mr. 
Cecil,  or  '  Parson  '  Legard,  Lord  Melgund,  now  the 
Earl  of  Minto,  Viceroy  of  India,  who  rode  as  '  Mr. 
Roily,'  and  Lord  Aberdour.  They  travelled  from 
Cambridge  in  the  morning,  and  were  only  too  glad  to 
get  a  mount  of  any  kind.  There  is,  I  fear,  too  much 
of  the  solid  business  element  about  sport  between 
the  flags  to  hope  for  a  revival  of  the  spirit  which 
actuated  such  men  as  these ;  and  without  taking  a 
too  pessimistic  view  of  the  situation,  it  does  not 
appear  as  though  in  the  immediate  future  we  shall 
see  many  of  that  stamp  of  old-fashioned  amateur  or 
military  riders  which  was  so  conspicuous  twenty,  or 
even  fifteen,  years  ago." 

At  the  Aldershot  meeting  in  May  1906  occurred  the 
sad  fatality  to  Captain  Meyricke.  His  horse  twisted 
himself  at  a  jump,  and  colliding  with  the  hind  quarters 
of  Lieutenant  Sherrard's  horse,  the  two  came  down 
together.  Captain  Meyricke  apparently  falling  on  his 
head.  It  was  the  first  time  in  thirty-five  years  that 
any  serious  accident  had  occurred  at  this  meeting. 
In  this  race  my  eldest  son  rode  the  winner. 

Kozak  gained  another  victory  at  Chelmsford  in 
this  year,  carrying  his  owner  in  the  Hunters'  Steeple- 
chase. He  repeated  his  success  a  little  later  in  the 
Datchet  Handicap  Steeplechase  at  Windsor ;  and 
also  won  the  Household  Brigade  Hunters'Challenge 
Cup. 


312  FOKTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

The  following  year  was  a  quiet  one  as  far  as  racing 
was  concerned  ;  and  in  1908  I  added  one  more  to 
my  ballooning  experiences,  being  a  passenger  in  Mr. 
Griffith  Brewer's  "  Lotus,"  which  won  the  Inter- 
national Race  from  Hurlingham. 

The  account  of  the  race  may  be  best  told  in  Mr. 
Brewer's  own  words  : — 

"  At  last,  after  a  busy  day,  all  the  balloons  were 
inflated,  and  the  little  auxiliary  balloon  was  attached 
to  the  side  of  '  Lotus,'  and,  in  our  turn,  we  were 
brought  up  to  the  starting  mat,  and  carried  to  wind- 
ward in  readiness  to  take  our  place  after  the  de- 
parture of  Count  de  La  Vaulx.  On  weighing  up,  the 
Lotus  was  found  to  lift  quite  readily  with  five  bags 
of  ballast,  each  weighing  about  351bs. 

"  The  winning-post  had  been  chosen  at  Burchett's 
Green,  three  miles  beyond  Maidenhead ;  and  as  by 
now  the  wind  had  considerably  reduced  in  strength, 
the  question  of  whether  five  bags  of  ballast  would 
be  sufficient  to  carry  us  a  distance  of  about  thirty 
miles,  added  another  factor  to  the  many  governing 
the  race. 

"  At  3.50  p.m.  we  let  go,  and  followed  the  other 
twenty-one  balloons  in  front  of  us,  on  a  course  west 
of  south-west,  crossing  the  Thames  over  Putney 
Bridge,  which  was  black  with  people  ;  and  then  con- 
tinuing over  Barnes  Common  and  Sheen  Common, 
we  passed  Richmond,  and  crossed  the  Thames  again 
over  Messum's  boathouse.  Here  we  took  our  first 
reading,  and  made  an  accurate  line  upon  the  map, 
which  showed  that  our  course  was  too  much  to  the 
south,  and  it  would  be  necessary  to  rise  into  the 
current  noticed  earlier  in  the  day,  at  a  height  of  about 


J 


11 


}::  :^:i' 


p.  3U'] 


HURLINGHAM. 


RACING   BY   LAND   AND   AIR         313 

3,000  feet.  At  the  same  time  it  would  not  do  to  pass 
through  that  current  if  it  proved  to  be  very  thin, 
and  so  we  only  threw  a  little  ballast  and  rose  slowly. 
As  we  progressed  we  found  that  our  course  first 
became  due  west,  and  west  by  north-west,  and  so  it 
became  a  question  of  whether  we  could  remain  in 
the  current  or  whether  we  should  be  obliged  to  sink 
below  or  rise  above  it.  It  was  now  that  the  ballast 
required  the  closest  watching.  Every  tendency  to 
dip  down  had  to  be  checked,  with  sufficient  ballast 
to  prevent  a  descent,  but  not  sufficient  to  make 
a  quick  rise  ;  and  in  this  way  we  went  on,  gradually 
working  up  to  our  maximum  height  of  5,900  feet,  at 
which  altitude  the  course  became  due  west  again, 
showing  that  we  had  completely  penetrated  the 
intermediate  current.  Colnbrook  was  passed  at 
5.30,  and  then  Slough  came  in  sight  in  the  distance, 
and  it  was  not  till  now  that  we  realized  we  were 
immediately  above  Ditton  Park,  the  lovely  seat 
of  the  donor  of  the  cup  which  all  aeronautical 
Europe  was  struggling  for.  We  scooped  a  little 
sand  down  to  Lord  Montagu  for  luck,  and  the 
Thames,  which  had  appeared  to  bend  towards  us 
from  Windsor,  slightly  turned  aside  again  towards 
Boveney. 

"  The  race  now  became  exciting,  because  our  line  of 
direction  was  so  good  that  we  hoped  to  see  Burchett's 
Green,  and  if  we  could  only  work  a  little  more  north 
we  should  then  be  able  to  utilize  the  lower  current, 
and  possibly  fall  near  the  actually  selected  spot.  We 
found,  however,  that  we  had  made  as  much  northerly 
progress  as  was  possible ;  and  shortly  after  crossing 
the  Thames  at  Maidenhead,  we  could  distinguish  the 


314  FOETY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

white  cross  in  a  field  opposite  Burchett's  Green,  still 
considerably  to  the  north. 

"  All  the  balloons  we  had  seen  on  this  journey  were 
away  to  the  south,  and  nobody  seemed  to  be  in  sight 
at  all.  We  did  not  suspect  that  the  Valkyrie  was 
already  on  the  ground,  and  only  one  and  a  quarter 
miles  south  of  the  winning  cross.  We  therefore  came 
down  with  moderate  speed  by  opening  the  valve, 
knowing  that  the  longer  we  took  to  descend,  the  more 
out  of  our  course  we  should  be  carried  by  the  lower 
current.  The  question  of  whether  we  landed  200 
yards  or  so  farther  from  the  winning  cross  did  not 
then  seem  to  be  of  importance,  as  we  appeared  to  have 
the  race  to  ourselves,  and  so  I  did  not  descend  as 
I  should  have  done  had  I  known  that  another  com- 
petitor had  landed,  and  quickly  deflated  to  obliterate 
his  position.  As  we  neared  the  ground  we  saw  a 
crowd  of  people  to  our  left,  but  for  the  moment  we 
did  not  associate  this  collected  crowd  with  one  of  the 
descents  of  the  balloons,  because  we  thought  it  was 
simply  a  crowd  that  had  collected  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Burchett's  Green  waiting  for  the  balloon  to 
come  along.  A  few  minutes  later  our  car  came  to  the 
ground — namely,  at  6.56,  in  a  field  in  the  parish  of 
Hurley,  which  is  the  parish  containing  the  winning- 
post.  The  field  which  we  struck  contained  a  crop 
of  beans,  and,  not  wishing  to  damage  them,  we  were 
carried  immediately  from  the  beans  into  a  grass  field 
near  by,  where  the  deflation  was  quickly  efiected." 

Last  year  I  again  accompanied  Mr.  Brewer,  this 
time  in  the  "  Vivienne,''  in  the  International  Point 
to  Point  race  instituted  by  the  Aero  Club. 

Before  starting  I  expressed  a  wish  that  instead  of 


RACING   BY   LAND   AND   AIR         315 

making  Tye  Common  the  goal,  Boreham  House,  with 
its  beautiful  lakes,  which  would  be  visible  for  many 
miles,  would  be  far  preferable,  and  make  it  easier 
for  those  who  had  a  lesser  knowledge  of  the  country 
than  myself.  I  also  stated  that  when  we  got  into  a 
higher  altitude  than  the  small  pilot  balloons  were  in, 
when  seen  leaving  Hurlingham,  we  should  get  the 
breeze  a  bit  more  from  the  south,  and  so  get  blown 
north  of  Billericay.     My  deductions  proved  correct. 

At  the  rate  we  were  travelling  we  could  easily  have 
done  the  extra  seven  miles,  and  packed  our  envelopes, 
netting,  etc.,  by  daylight.  At  one  time  we  could 
count  ten  balloons,  not  including  our  own ;  the 
year  before  double  the  number  were  visible  when 
half  the  journey  was  covered. 

When  over  Pyrgo  Park  we  were  within  talking 
distance  of  the  "  Valkyrie,"  which  was  a  good  second 
to  the  "  Lotus  "  in  the  previous  year,  and  a  good  deal 
of  aerial  badinage  passed  between  the  pilots.  Sud- 
denly Mr.  Pollock,  who  had  with  him  Princess  Blucher 
and  Mrs.  Assheton  Harbord,  shouted,  "  WeVe  run 
out  of  ballast !  "  and  they  at  once  commenced  to 
descend — in  fact  we  could  see  them  bumping  away 
almost  immediately  below.  Though  they  landed 
several  miles  from  the  goal  they  were  within  measur- 
able distance  of  winning  a  prize. 

The  highest  altitude  we  reached  was  a  fraction 
over  7,000  feet.  Our  descent  was  in  a  fallow  field. 
We  narrowly  missed  the  brickwork  over  a  well ;  and 
while  rising  diagonally  over  a  belt  of  trees  the  trail  rope 
fouled  them  ;  but  shortly  afterwards  we  succeeded  in 
landing  comfortably  in  a  grass  field  about  300  yards 
from  Writ  tie  Park. 


316  FORTY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

In  July,  last  year,  I  took  part  in  the  Hare  and 
Hounds  Aerial  Race,  as  a  passenger  in  Baroness  Von 
Hercheren's  "  L'Esperance,"  piloted  by  Mr.  Brewer. 

This  year  I  have  been  up  twice,  both  times  from 
Hurhngham  in  the  "  St.  Louis,"  piloted  by  John 
Dunville,  whose  wife  accompanied  us  on  each 
occasion.  The  first  was  a  long  distance  race,  in 
which  we  were  second,  the  winner  being  the  Hon. 
Mrs.  Assheton  Harbord.  We  came  down  at  Tatting- 
stone,  in  Suffolk,  where  we  were  most  hospitably 
entertained  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kerrison.  Curiously 
enough,  in  the  second  race,  a  point-to-point,  the 
positions  were  exactly  reversed,  Mrs.  Harbord  coming 
in  second,  and  ourselves  first.  On  this  occasion  we 
made  our  descent  at  Purleigh,  six  miles  from  my 
house. 

The  present  year  has  seen  a  complete  revolution  in 
the  art  of  aerial  navigation,  and  the  recent  sensational 
achievements  of  M.  Paulhan  and  Mr.  Grahame- White 
have  astonished  those  who,  like  myself,  were  inclined 
to  scout  the  much-talked-of  "  Conquest  of  the  Air." 
It  only  goes  to  show  how  unsafe  a  thing  it  is  to  pro- 
phesy about  anything  in  this  world. 

Personally,  I  hope  to  do  a  lot  more  ballooning  yet, 
and  perhaps  a  little  aeroplaning  as  well.  The  latter 
would  add  a  zest  to  the  rest  of  my  sporting  experi- 
ences, and  perhaps  provide  me  with  a  new  sensation 
— who  knows  ? 

But  it  may  be  thought  that  I  ought  to  be  getting 
past  the  time  when  a  man  may  expect  to  enjoy  "  new 
sensations."  The  rather  saddening  reflection  that 
there  may,  in  the  ordinary  course  of  nature,  come  a 
time  when  I  shall  have  to  address  myself  to  tamer 


RACING   BY   LAND   AND   AIR         317 

pursuits  than  steeplechasing  and  other  more  or  less 
hazardous  forms  of  sport,  has  flashed  unwelcome 
across  my  mind  once  or  twice  of  late  years. 

Still  it  will  be  my  endeavour,  after  the  example 
of  not  a  few  good  men  I  have  known  and  heard  of, 
to  see  the  thing  out,  and  in  the  world  of  sport,  like 
them,  to  drink  "  life  to  the  lees." 

What  the  public  will  think  of  a  man  who  has  not 
fully  sown  his  wild  oats,  though  over  sixty  years  of 
age,  and  of  a  life  which  has  been  almost  entirely  given 
up  to  various  sports  and  adventures  in  all  parts  of  the 
world,  is  not  for  me  to  predict.  It  may  be  that  the 
verdict  will  be  that  such  a  life  has  been  chiefly  mis- 
spent, for  it  is  an  age  rather  devoted  to  the  carking 
cares,  the  ceaseless  anxieties,  and  the  restlessness  of 
business  than  to  exploit  and  adventure  ;  and  in  the 
*'  getting  and  spending,"  in  the  piling  up — as  well  as  in 
the  losing — of  fortunes,  that  the  powers  and  thoughts 
of  very  many  of  us  are  centred.  Such  things  indeed 
must  be  ;  a  drone  myself,  so  far  as  the  strictly 
work-a-day  and  commercial  side  of  life  is  concerned, 
I  fully  recognise  this.  It  would  not  do  for  us  to  be 
steeplechasers  and  balloonists  all.  Yet  there  are 
many  who  share  with  me  this  belief  in  sport,  in  its 
even  more  robust  and  adventuresome  side,  as 
necessary  to  the  development  and  prowess  of  the 
rising  generation  of  Englishmen;  and  they,  at  any 
rate,  will  perhaps  regard  with  leniency  some  of  the 
escapades  herein  set  forth  with  all  endeavour  to  avoid 
exaggeration  and  inaccuracy. 

In  conclusion,  I  will  admit  that  the  extreme  fre- 
quency with  which  the  first  person  singular  has  come 
to  the  surface  throughout  these  reminiscences  has 


318  FOETY  YEARS  OF  A  SPORTSMAN'S  LIFE 

somewhat  discomforted  me  once  or  twice.  But  in 
a  book  of  this  kind  it  is  not  possible  to  altogether 
avoid  conveying  the  impression  of  being  rather  an 
egoist.  It  has  been  a  real  pleasure  to  turn  from  my 
own  doings  to  those  of  the  host  of  sportsmen  and 
good  fellows  whose  ways  have,  from  time  to  time, 
been  my  ways.  If  anything  has  been  related  of 
these  comrades  likely  to  give  unintentional  pain,  I 
trust  they  may  pass  an  act  of  oblivion,  and  I  ask 
them  to  feel  assured  that  nothing  has  been  set  down 
in  malice.    For  the  rest — 

"  What  is  writ, 
Would  it  were  worthier  !  " 


Printed  by  Bazell,  Watson  £  Viney,  Ld.,  London  and  Aylesbury. 


A  "Book  for  EVerp  Thinker 

My  German  Year 

BY 

I.  A.   R.  WYLIE 

Author  of  "The  Rajah's  People" 
J^u/fy  Illustrated.  lOS.  6di  net 


IN  "My  German  Year"  I.  A.  R.  Wylie  has  added  a 
striking  and  absorbing  volume  to  the  list  of  books 
which  have  been  written  on  Germany  and  the  Germans. 
The  author's  long  and  intimate  acquaintance  with  the 
people  whom  she  has  set  out  to  describe,  her  close,  first- 
hand knowledge  of  the  conditions  in  all  the  different 
classes,  her  unprejudiced  and  sympathetic  insight  have 
made  it  possible  for  her  to  say  much  that  is  new  and 
interesting  on  an  old  subject.  Where  others  have  dealt 
with  statistics  and  politics  she  has  penetrated  down  to 
the  character  and  spirit  of  the  people  themselves,  and 
revealed  there  the  source  of  their  greatness,  their  aims 
and  ideals.  Written  in  a  pleasant,  almost  conversational 
style,  with  many  reminiscences  and  anecdotes,  "  My 
German  Year"  is  yet  inspired  with  a  serious  purpose — 
that  of  bringing  about  a  better  understanding  and  appre- 
ciation of  the  German  character ;  and  certainly  those  who 
have  wandered  with  the  author  through  town  and  country, 
from  the  Black  Forester's  hut  to  the  Imperial  Palace, 
must  feel  that  they  have  seen  their  cousins  in  another, 
truer,  and  more  sympathetic  light. 


MILLS   &   BOON,    Ltd.,    49   RUPERT   STREET,    W. 


'  Why  are  so  many  Jesus  men  called  Jones  ? " 

The  Romance  of 
The  Oxford  Colleges 

BY 

FRANCIS   GRIBBLE 

With  Photog7-avure  Frontispiece  and  Sixteen  other  Illustrations 
Croxun  'ivo,  6S. 


SOME   REVIEWS 


Oxford  Magazine. — "  Mr.  Gribble  has  wisely  ignored  all  that  is 
dull  and  merely  academic,  and  has  skilfully  put  together  all  that  is 
most  interesting  in  the  history  of  the  Colleges,  thus  producing  a 
book  which  should  be  as  welcome  to  Oxford  men  as  to  the  inquiring 
visitor." 

Granta  (^Cambridge). — "  This  vastly  entertaining  book  will  appeal 
not  only  to  the  Oxford  man  and  the  visitor  to  Oxford,  but  also  to 
all  those  who  care  for  merriment  or  are  interested  in  the  doings  of 
great  men." 

Pall  Mall  Gazette. — "Mr.  Gribble  has  a  delightful  style  and  a 
most  refreshing  gift  of  humour." 

Sketch. — "  Chatters  pleasantly  of  men  rather  than  things,  of  doings 
rather  than  of  dates.  He  conjures  up  spirits  of  the  famous  dead,  gives 
them  substance  and  shadow,  breathes  into  them  that  subtle  something 
which  is  life." 

Westminster  Gazette. — "  Does  not  contain  a  dull  page." 

Daily  Chronicle. — "  A  jolly  sort  of  book." 

Sunday  Times. — "One  of  the  liveliest  and  most  up-to-date  books 
published." 

Telegraph.  —  "Mr.  Cribble's  comely  volume  distinguishes  itself  from 
the  rank  and  file  by  a  genuinely  original  outlook." 


MILLS   &   BOON,   Ltd.,   49   RUPERT   STREET,    W. 


A  Catalogue  of  Books 

published   by 

Mills  &  Boon  Ltd. 

49,  RUPERT  STREET,  LONDON,  W. 

(Close  to   Piccadilly  Circus  Tube  Station.) 

COLONIAL  Editions  are  issued  of  all  Messrs.  Mills 
&    Boon's   Novels,  and  of  most  of  their  books  in 
General  Literature. 
In    the    case    of    forthcoming    books     the    approximate 
published   prices   are   given.      In    some  cases   these   may 
be  altered  before  publication. 

The  Catalogue  is  divided  into  two  sections  :  the  first 
(pages  1-22)  contains  announcements  of  books  to  be 
published  during  the  Summer  and  Autumn  of  1910,  and 
the  second  (pages  23-32)  contains  the  books  published 
before  July  i,   19 10. 


AUTUMN     ANNOUNCEMENTS. 

The  Parson's  Pleasance. 

By  P.  H.  DITCHFIELD,  M.A.,  F.S.A.,  F.R.S.L., 
F.R.Hist.S.,  Author  of  "The  Old-time  Parson,"  etc. 
With  27  Illustrations.     Demy  8vo.     los.  6d.  net. 

The  lighter  studies  of  a  literary  clergyman  usually 
find  many  readers.  Mr.  Ditchfield's  name  is  well  known 
as  the  author  of  many  books  which  have  attracted  a 
large  circle  of  admirers.  He  has  written  numerous 
works  on  history,  architecture,  and  archaeology,  and 
achieved  fame  with  his  delightful  volumes  on  "  The 
Parish  Clerk  "  and  the  clerics  of  olden  days.  In  the 
present  volume  he  discourses  pleasantly  on  many  sub- 
jects, and  includes  in  his  Pleasance  the  charms  of  his 
old  rectory  garden,  the  delights  of  old  books,  the  at- 
tractions of  the  village  folk,  their  customs  and  super- 
stitions. He  trots  out  his  own  hobby-horses — and  there 
are  several  in  his  stable — and  discourses  on  the  quaint 


2  Mills  6c  Boon's  Catalogue 

waj's  of  some  of  his  revered  predecessors.  He  has 
culled  some  flowers  from  foreign  travel,  and  gathered 
in  his  Pleasance  many  choice  plants.  The  book  will 
appeal  to  many  and  various  tastes,  and  is  well  illustrated. 

Wagner  at  Home. 

Fully  translated  from  the  French  of  Judith  Gautier  by 
EFFIE  DUNREITH  MASSIF.  With  12  Illustrations. 
Dem)'  8vo.     los.  6d.  net. 

Even  had  Wagner  never  been  heard  of  as  a  composer, 
the  charm  and  intimate  nature  of  this  book  would  have 
made  it  fascinating.  Judith  Gautier,  talented  daughter 
of  a  famous  father,  has  given  here  a  picture  of  the 
Wagner  household  at  its  most  interesting  period — at 
the  time  when  Wagner,  driven  into  exile  by  the  veno- 
mous onslaughts  of  his  detractors,  lived  in  retirement 
near  Lucerne.  Cosima  Liszt  (at  the  time  still  Frau  von 
Bulow)  shared  this  solitude,  and  by  her  strong  and 
sympathetic  personality  aided  in  the  accomplishment 
of  his  work.  The  writer,  in  a  style  both  vivid  and 
charming,  has  immortalised  the  summer  days  which 
she  and  a  little  company  of  French  disciples  passed 
with  Wagner  in  this  environment  ;  touching  lightly 
and  feelingly  upon  the  domestic  problems  and  inspiring 
the  reader  with  her  own  enthusiastic  partisanship.  The 
book  is  full  of  entertaining  and  humorous  incidents 
and  characteristic  anecdotes  told  at  first  hand  about 
Wagner  and  his  illustrious  guests.  The  translator  has 
successfully  preserved  the  author's  infectious  enthusiasm 
of  style. 

Yvette  Guilbert  :  Struggles  and  Victories. 

By  YVETTE  GUILBERT  and  HAROLD  SIMPSON. 
Profusely  illustrated  with  Caricatures,  Portraits,  Fac- 
similes of  letters,  etc.     Demy  8vo.     105.  6d.  net. 

The  history  of  Yvette  Guilbert's  career  is  one  of 
extreme  fascination.  The  story  of  how  she  climbed, 
past  innumerable  difficulties,  to  the  unique  position 
which  she  holds  to-day,  possesses  elements  of  positively 


Autumn  Anaouncements,   1910  3 

absorbing  interest.  The  greatest  of  her  discouragements 
came  from  her  family.  They  implored  her  to  give 
up  the  idea  of  singing.  Her  first  engagement  was  a 
failure,  because  the  management  was  frightened  at 
the  originality  of  her  method  and  songs.  A  few  years 
afterwards  the  same  management  offered  her  a  fabulous 
salary  to  sing  the  very  same  songs. 

When  she  came  to  England,  in  1894,  she  took  London 
by  storm.  Public  and  critics  raved  about  her.  Yvette 
Guilbert  in  her  long  black  gloves  was  a  name  to  conjure 
with. 

Madame  Guilbert's  story  of  her  early  struggles  and 
victories,  of  her  conquest  of  her  critics,  and  of  her  final 
triumph  in  the  art  which  she  has  made  so  peculiarly  her 
own,  is  an  intensely  human  document  that  cannot  fail 
in  its  appeal  to  a  very  wide  public,  ajtd  will  appear  in 
the  original  French.  A  complete  translation  of  this, 
together  with  a  critical  record  of  Madame  Guilbert's 
life  by  Harold  Simpson,  will  also  be  included. 

My  German  Year. 

By  I.  A.  R.  WYLIE,  Author  cf  "  The  Rajah's  People." 
With  2  Illustrations  in  Colour  and  18  from  Photographs. 
Demy  8vo.     los.  6d.  net. 

In  "  My  German  Year  "  I.  A.  R.  Wylie  has  added  a 
striking  and  absorbing  volume  to  the  list  of  books  which 
have  been  written  on  Germany  and  the  Germans. 
The  author's  long  and  intimate  acquaintance  with  the 
people  whom  she  has  set  out  to  describe,  her  close, 
first-hand  knowledge  of  the  conditions  in  all  the  different 
classes,  her  unprejudiced  and  sympathetic  insight  have 
made  it  possible  for  her  to  say  much  that  is  new  and 
interesting  on  an  old  subject.  Where  others  have 
dealt  with  statistics  and  politics  she  has  penetrated 
down  to  the  character  and  spirit  of  the  people  them- 
selves, and  revealed  there  the  source  of  their  greatness, 
their  aims  and  ideals.  Written  in  a  pleasant,  almost 
conversational  style,  with  many  reminiscences  and 
anecdotes,   "  My  German   Year  "   is  yet   inspired   with 


4  Mills  &  Boon's  Catalogue 

a  serious  purpose — that  of  bringing  about  a  better 
understanding  and  appreciation  of  the  German  char- 
acter, and  certainly  those  who  have  wandered  with  the 
author  through  town  and  country,  from  the  Black 
Forester's  hut  to  the  Imperial  Palace,  must  feel  that 
they  have  seen  their  cousins  in  another,  truer,  and 
more  sympathetic  light. 

Forty  Years  of  a  Sportsman's  Life. 

By  SIR  CLAUDE  CHAMPION  DE  CRESPIGNY,  Bart. 
With  1 8  Illustrations.     Demy  8vo.     io5.  6d.  net. 

Steeplechasing,  Ballooning,  Boxing,  Big-Game  Shoot- 
ing, or  acting  as  War  Correspondent,  they  all  come 
alike  to  Sir  Claude  Champion  de  Crespigny,  whose  life 
has  been  one  long  series  of  adventures  by  land,  sea,  and 
air.  There  is  probably  no  man  living  who  has  a  greater 
contempt  for  danger  of  any  kind  than  Sir  Claude.  As 
a  horseman  he  has  probably  not  half  a  dozen  superiors 
in  the  world  ;  while  his  chapter  of  accidents  is  long 
enough  to  fill  a  book. 

Starting  life  in  the  Navy,  he  eventually  entered  the 
Army,  and  saw  service  in  India,  where,  incidentalty, 
he  won  many  a  famous  steeplechase.  When  the  Franco- 
German  War  broke  out  he  tried  to  get  to  the  front, 
and  was  nearly  arrested  as  a  German  spy.  In  1889, 
at  the  time  of  the  Dervish  Raid,  he  went  as  a  volunteer 
to  Egypt,  finally  acting  as  war  correspondent  ;  was 
through  the  Boer  War,  and  took  part  in  the  Sotik 
Punitive  Expedition  in  East  Africa. 

The  story  of  his  adventures  and  the  yarns  he  has 
to  tell  of  the  interesting  people  he  has  met  in  many 
lands  make  very  enthralling,  not  to  say  "  racy," 
reading. 


The  Story  of  the  British  Navy. 

By   E.    KEBLE   CHATTERTON,    Author   of   "  Sailing 
Ships."     Fully  illustrated.     Demy  Svo.     los.  6d.  net. 

An  attempt  has  been  made  in  this  book  to  tell  in 
non-technical  language  for  the  interest  of  the  general 


Autumn  Announcements,  1910  5 

reader  the  story  of  the  British  Navy  from  the  earliest 
times  up  to  the  present  day.  To  the  sons  and  daughters 
of  an  island  race,  to  the  subjects  of  a  Sailor-King, 
whose  Empire  stretches  beyond  the  Seas,  such  a  story 
as  that  of  the  greatest  Navy  of  the  world  cannot  fail 
to  be  read  with  the  keenest  enthusiasm.  It  has  been 
the  object  of  the  author  to  relate  within  the  limits  of 
a  volume  of  moderate  dimensions  the  fascinating 
evolution  of  the  "  mightiest  ocean-power  on  earth." 
If  it  be  true,  as  Tennyson  says,  that  England's  all-in-all 
is  her  Navy,  if  our  island  and  our  Empire  are  dependent 
so  thoroughly  on  a  fleet  in  being,  it  is  not  necessary  to 
point  out  the  demands  which  such  a  book  as  this  should 
make  on  the  attention  of  all  who  respect  the  British 
Flag.  Those  who  read  and  enjoyed  Mr.  Chatterton's 
big  volume  on  the  history  of  the  Sailing-Ship  will  ap- 
preciate this  present  book,  which,  besides  its  wealth  of 
interesting  historical  detail  (the  result  of  considerable 
research),  is  full  of  exciting  and  inspiriting  sea-fights 
and  adventures.  Well  illustrated  with  pictures  both 
ancient  and  modern,  this  is  just  the  book  to  give  to  any 
boy  or  man  who  has  the  slightest  affection  for  the  sea 
and  a  loyal  devotion  to  his  Motherland. 

A  Century  of  Ballads  (1810—1910),  Their 
Composers  and  Singers. 

By  HAROLD  SIMPSON.     Fully  illustrated.     Demy  8vo. 
los.  6d.  net. 

The  story  of  popular  songs,  how  they  were  written, 
their  singers  and  their  composers,  is  one  which  appeals 
to  a  very  wide  public,  other  than  the  purely  musical. 

In  this  book  Mr.  Simpson,  after  outlining  the  earlier 
history  and  vicissitudes  of  English  song,  deals  with 
the  songs  and  singers  whose  names  have  been  "  house- 
hold words  "  for  the  past  fifty  years. 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  romance  attaching  to  the 
subject  of  popular  song  ballads,  and  anecdotes  of 
composers  and  singers  abound  in  this  work,  which  is 
written  entirely  from  a  popular  and  non-critical  stand- 


6  MiUs  &  Boon's  Catalogue 

point.  The  countless  thousands  who  have  hstened  to 
and  dehghted  in  SulHvan's  "  Lost  Chord,"  for  instance, 
have  probably  no  idea  of  the  circumstances  under 
which  it  came  to  be  written  ;  and  the  same  may  be  said 
of  a  host  of  other  songs  that  have  been  sung  in  almost 
every  home  throughout  the  country. 

The  book  is  profusely  illustrated  with  portraits  of 
composers  and  singers,  past  and  present,  and  contains 
several  original  fascimiles  of  well-known  songs. 


Swiss  Mountain  Climbs. 

By  GEORGE  D.  ABRAHAM,  Author  of  "  British 
Mountain  CUmbs,"  "  The  Complete  Mountaineer." 
Illustrated  with  Photographs  and  Diagrams.  Pocket 
size.  Waterproof  Cloth.  Uniform  with  "  British  Moun- 
tain Climbs."     7s.  6d.  net. 

The  average  mountaineer  who  wishes  to  visit  the 
Swiss  Alps  usually  experiences  great  difficulty  in  select- 
ing a  suitable  district  for  his  holiday.  In  this  book 
all  the  leading  centres  are  dealt  with,  and  the  attractions 
they  offer  are  plainly  set  forth.  Up-to-date  and  reliable 
descriptions  are  given  of  the  routes  up  all  the  most 
important  peaks,  whilst  the  principal  passes  are  dealt 
with.  The  work,  which  is  largely  the  result  of  personal 
experience  and  exploration,  will  be  found  especially 
helpful  for  those  who  have  passed  the  novitiate  stages 
and  wish  to  know  something  of  suitable  expeditions 
for  guideless  attempts. 

The  ascents  are  grouped  around  the  various  centres, 
and  the  best  maps  for  these  are  noted.  Instead  of 
graduated  lists  of  courses  the  guides'  tariffs  for  each 
district  are  included.  These  give  a  capital  idea  of  the 
varying  difficulties  of  the  courses,  and  will  be  found 
enlightening  in  other  ways.  For  instance,  the  cost  of 
climbing  so  many  peaks  can  be  reckoned  beforehand  ; 
the  expensive  districts  stand  revealed.  A  great  deal 
of  practical  information  is  given  on  other  points. 

Especial  attention  has  been  bestowed  on  the  illus- 
trations ;  the  bulk  of  these  are  entirely  new,  and  pre- 
pared especially  for  this  work.     Numerous  line  drawings 


Autumn  Announcements,   1910  7 

showing  the  principal  routes  help  to  add  finish  to  a 
copiously  illustrated  book,  which  is  of  such  size  that  it 
can  be  carried  anywhere  in  the  climber's  pocket — a 
practical,  useful,  and  interesting  companion. 

Home  Life  in  Ireland. 

By  ROBERT  LYND.  Illustrated  from  photographs. 
Third  and  Popular  Edition,  with  a  New  Preface.  Crown 
8vo.     65. 

Spectator. — "Mr.  Lynd  has  written  an  entertaining  and  in- 
forming book  about  Ireland.  On  the  whole,  he  holds  the  balance 
between  North  and  South,  minister  and  priest,  and  the  various 
oppositions  which  are  to  be  found  in  the  country  with  an  even 
hand.  There  is  a  specially  interesting  chapter  on  '  Marriages 
and  Match-making.'  We  naturally  have  said  more  about  points 
of  difference  than  about  points  of  agreement  ;  but  our  criticisms 
do  not  touch  the  real  value  of  the  book.  It  is  the  work  of  a  close 
and  interested  observer." 

The  German  Spy  System  in  France. 

Translated  from  the  French  of  Paul  Lanoir.  Crown  8vo. 
5s.  net. 

The  aim  of  the  author  is  to  open  the  eyes  of  his 
countrymen  in  France  to  the  baneful  activity  of  German 
spies  in  their  midst,  and  to  endeavour  to  stimulate 
public  opinion  to  take  the  necessary  counter-measures. 
The  genesis  and  development  are  traced  of  the  up-to- 
date  and  highly  organised  secret  service  now  maintained 
by  Germany.  This  service  performs  the  double  function 
of  "  political  action  "  and  spying  proper,  the  former 
including  the  subsidisation  of  strikes  and  the  propa- 
gation of  anti-militarism  in  foreign  countries,  and  the 
whole  organisation  is  a  striking  example  of  German 
thoroughness.  The  features  of  the  present  organisation 
are  described  in  considerable  detail  :  many  sidelights 
are  thrown  on  famous  historical  personages,  and  the 
numerous  episodes  narrated  are  full  of  human  interest. 
The  book  gives  food  for  much  anxious  thought  on  the 
part  of  citizens  of  countries  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
the  Kaiser's  dominions.     The  possibility  of  the  applica- 


8  Mills  &  Boon's  Catalogue 

tion  in  England  of  methods  similar  to  those  whose 
successful  working  in  France  is  here  described  can 
scarcely  fail  to  suggest  itself  to  the  reader.  Many  little 
incidents,  personally  observed  or  reported  in  the  daily 
press,  assume  an  entirely  new  and  interesting  significa- 
tion in  the  light  of  the  revelations  of  this  work,  and  a 
perusal  of  its  pages  is  not  unlikely  to  leave  many 
readers  in  doubt  whether  their  previous  scorn  of  "  spy 
mania  "  was  based  on  altogether  adequate  knowledge. 

Ships  and  Sealing  Wax. 

By  HANSARD  WATT.  With  40  illustrations  by  L.  R. 
BRIGHTWELL.     Crown  4to.     3s.  6d.  net. 

"  Ships  and  Sealing  Wax  "  is  a  volume  of  light  verse 
by  Hansard  Watt,  author  of  "  Home-Made  History," 
"  Through  the  Loopholes  of  Retreat,"  etc.  Mr.  Watt's 
verses  are  well  known  to  magazine  readers,  and  the 
present  volume  contains  many  of  his  contributions  to 
Punch.  As  the  discerning  will  gather  from  the  title, 
"  Ships  and  Sealing  Wax  "  deals  with  "  many  things." 
The  book  is  delightfully  illustrated  by  L.  R.  Brightwell, 
and  makes  one  of  the  best  presents  of  the  season. 

The  Children's  Story  of  Westminster  Abbey. 

By  Miss  G.  E.  TROUTBECK.  Author  of  "  Westminster 
Abbey  "  (Little  Guides).  Illustrated.  Popular  Edition. 
CrowTi  8vo.      IS.  net. 

Scotsman. — "  A  volume  with  many  merits  as  a  gift-book  for 
the  young  is  '  The  Children's  Story  of  Westminster  Abbey,'  of 
which  the  author  is  G.  E.  Troutbeck.  It  is  attractivel}'  written, 
and  contains  many  splendid  photographs.  Its  chief  object  is  to 
point  out  to  British  children  how  they  may  follow  the  great 
outlines  of  their  country's  history  in  Westminster  Abbey,  from 
the  days  of  the  far-off  legendary  King  Lucius." 

The  presentation  edition  at  5s.  net  can  still  be  had, 
and  makes  a  beautiful  present  for  children. 


Pocket  Tip  Books,   1910  g 

MILLS    &    BOON'S 
POCKET    TIP    BOOKS. 

The  Motorist's  Pocket  Tip  Book. 

By  GEOFFREY  OSBORN.     Fully  illustrated.     5s.  net. 

The  author  of  this  book,  an  engineer  by  profession, 
has  had  a  large  and  varied  experience  of  all  types  of 
cars  in  several  countries.  He  has  compressed  his 
knowledge  into  the  pages  of  this  book  in  such  a  manner 
that  the  points  required  to  be  elucidated  can  instantly 
be  found,  and  if  further  explanation  be  required,  the 
reader  has  only  to  turn  to  the  chapter  immediately 
preceding  to  find  the  reasons  why  and  wherefore. 

To  make  this  book  of  the  utmost  possible  value  the 
publishers  have  produced  it  in  a  hancly  pocket  size  and 
the  author  has  added  pages  for  memoranda,  telephone 
numbers,  maintenance  charges,  and  the  points  about 
his  car  which  no  motorist  can  keep  in  his  head,  such  as 
the  engine  and  chassis  numbers,  French  number  plates, 
etc.,  so  that  on  the  score  of  utility  and  appearance  it 
need  never  be  out  of  the  motorist's  pocket. 

The  Golfer's  Pocket  Tip  Book. 

By   the  Authors  of    "  The  Six    Handicap  Golfer's    Com- 
panion."    Fully  illustrated.     55.  net. 

"  The  Golfer's  Pocket  Tip  Book  "  provides  for  the 
player  who  is  "  off  "  his  game,  a  source  whence  he 
may  extract  remedies  for  those  faults  of  whose  existence 
he  is  only  too  well  aware,  but  for  which  he  has  hitherto 
been  unsuccessful  in  finding  either  a  preventive  or  a 
cure.  The  book  contains  some  sixty  photographs 
illustrating  the  essential  points  of  the  golfing  stroke, 
and  on  the  opposite  page  will  be  found  a  few  short 
sentences  to  explain  those  points  to  which  the  photo- 
graphs are  intended  to  call  attention. 

The  various  strokes  depicted  have  each  been  chosen 
with  the  definite  object  of  demonstrating  some  one 
faulty    action,  maybe  of  hand  or  foot ;    and  in  many 


lo  Mills  &  Boon's  Catalogue 

cases  both  the  correct  and  faulty  methods  have  been 
illustrated  and  explained.  It  is  a  recognised  fact  that 
correct  "  timing  "  rather  than  physical  strength  makes 
for  success  in  golf  ;  therefore  great  stress  has  been 
laid  both  on  the  methods  of  playing  which  conduce  to 
efficiency  in  this  respect  and  on  those  which  prevent 
it.  Thus  a  complete  series  will  be  found  in  illustration 
of  perfect  foot-action  and  the  particular  function  of 
hand,  wrist,  and  body. 

Special  attention  has  been  bestowed  on  the  art  of 
putting,  and  the  series  of  photographs  relating  thereto 
is  more  complete  than  any  which  has  as  yet  been  pre- 
sented to  the  student  of  golf.  The  accompanying 
words  of  wisdom  emanate  from  Jack  White,  who  both 
in  theory  and  practice  excels  all  others  in  this  depart- 
ment of  the  game. 


COMPANION  SERIES. 


New  Volumes. 


The  Aviator's  Companion. 


By  D.  and  HENRY  FARM  AN  and  Others. 
25.  6d.  net. 


Crown  8vo. 


If  the  public  who  follow  Aviation  as  a  whole  would 
take  the  trouble  to  follow  the  records  of  the  various 
makes  of  machines,  they  would  be  struck  with  the 
practically  complete  immunity  from  accidents  which 
attends  pilots  of  the  Farman  aeroplanes,  and  they  would 
also  notice  that  when  one  Farman  aeroplane  is  beaten 
it  is  usually  by  another  of  -the  same  make,  to  wit,  the 
London  to  Manchester  flight.  This  book,  besides 
appealing  to  the  "  man  in  the  street,"  contains  Farman's 
Theory  of  Flight. 

The  Food  Reformer's  Companion. 

By  EUSTACE  MILES.  M.A.     Crown  8vo.     2S.  6d.  net. 

The  latest  and  most  up-to-date  work  on  diet  from 
the  pen  of  Mr.  Eustace  Miles.     The  author's  knowledge 


Companion  Series,   1910  r  i 

and  bright  style  make  the  book  exceptionally  authori- 
tative and  interesting. 

Every  phase  of  Food  Reform  is  touched  upon,  and 
the  touch  is  always  that  of  the  practical  expert. 

The  book  is  made  still  more  helpful  by  the  inclusion 
of  new  and  carefully  graded  recipes  in  Progressive 
Non-Flesh  Cookery  by  an  expert  chef.  There  are  also 
valuable  practical  hints  for  beginners  on  such  all- 
important  matters  as  "  What  to  avoid,"  "  What  to 
eat,"  "  Quantities  of  Food,"  "  How  many  meals  a 
day,"  etc. 

The  Lady  Motorist's  Companion. 

By"  AFOUR-INXHDRIVER."  Crown  8  vo.  2s.6fi.net. 
This  book,  written  mainly  for  women,  is  also  useful 
to  men.  The  chapter  on  "  Buying  a  Second-hand  Car  " 
explains  exhaustively  how  to  find  out  the  amount 
of  wear  and  tear,  and  will  prevent  the  purchaser  being 
"done." 

The  Householder's  Companion. 

By  F.  MINTON.     Crown  8vo.     zs.  6d.  net. 

The  Dramatic  Author's  Companion. 

By  "  A  THEvVTRICAL  MANAGER'S  READER."  With 
an  Introduction  by  ARTHUR  BOURCHIER.  Crown  8vo. 

2s.   6d.  net. 

The  Fisherman's  Companion. 

By  E.LE  BRETON  MARTIN.     Crown  8vo.     2s.6cZ.net. 

The  Nursery  Nurse's  Companion. 

Compiled  by  HONNOR  MORTEN,  Aiithor  of  "The 
Nurse's  Dictionary,"  etc.  Crown  8vo,  paper  wrapper, 
15.  net  ;    cloth,  is.  6d.  net. 

This  book  is  mainly  designed  to  help  the  would-be 
nurse  and  the  would-be  trainer  of  nurses.  But  it  may 
prove  of  use  to  those  who  have  gained  their  experience 
in  the  nursery,  but  would  gladly  bring  their  knowledge 
up-to-date. 


12  Mills  &  Boon's  Catalogue 

EDUCATIONAL  PUBLICATIONS 

A  First  School  Chemistry. 

By  F.  M.  OLDHAM,  B.A.,  Master  at  Dulwich  College  ; 
late  Scholar  of  Trinity  Hall,  Cambridge  ;  Author  of 
"  The  Complete  School  Chemistry."  With  71  Illustra- 
tions.    Crown  8vo.     25.  6d. 

The  object  of  this  book  is  to  provide  a  sound  elemen- 
tary course  of  practical  and  theoretical  chemistry  up 
to  the  standard  of  the  Oxford  and  Cambridge  Junior 
Local  Examination  and  of  the  Second  Class  Examina- 
tion of  the  College  of  Preceptors.  The  instructions 
for^carrying  out  each  experiment  are  followed  by  ques- 
tions. In  order  to  answer  these  questions  the  pupil 
must  think  about  the  essential  points  of  the  experiment. 
Special  features  of  the  book  are  the  placing  first  in  each 
chapter  of  the  practical  work,  which  is  followed  by  the 
theoretical  work  in  continuous  form,  and  the  diagram- 
matic character  of  the  figures,  which  are  such  as  can  be 
reproduced  by  the  pupils.  The  book  is  admirably 
adapted  to  lead  up  to  the  same  Author's  "  Complete 
School  Chemistry,"  now  in  its  Fourth  Edition. 

Preparatory  Arithmetic. 

By  F.  C.  BOON,  Principal  Mathematical  Master  at 
Dulwich  College.  Crown  8vo,  is.  Answers,  with  hints 
on  the  solution  of  a  number  of  the  problems,  6d.  net. 

The  author  has  here  kept  in  sight  the  importance  of 
teaching  all  the  fundamental  processes  by  such  methods 
as  will  not  have  to  be  unlearned  later,  and  in  such  quan- 
tities that  no  process  will  be  found  too  difficult.  Recent 
developments  of  arithmetical  methods  {e.g.  the  use  of  con- 
tracted methods  and  of  the  decimalised  form  of  £  s.  d.) 
as  well  as  facility  in  quick  and  approximately  correct 
mental  calculation  are  the  chief  features  of  the  course. 

A  PubHc  School  Arithmetic. 

By  F.  C.  BOON.  Crown  8vo.  With  or  without  answers, 
35.  6d. 

This  book  provides  a  thorough  grounding  in  the 
principles  of  arithmetic.     It  is  based  on  the  same  general 


Educational  Publications,   1910  13 

foundations  as  the  Preparatory  School  Arithmetic, 
but  meets  the  requirements  of  the  latest  developments 
of  arithmetical  teaching  for  the  University  and  Civil 
Service  Examinations. 

A  New  School  Geometry. 

By  RUPERT  DEAKIN,  M.A.,  Balliol  College,  Oxford, 
and  London  University.     Crown  8vo.      is. 

Practical  Mathematics. 

By  W.  E.  HARRISON,  A.R.C.S..  Principal  of  the 
Handsworth  Technical  College.  With  2  Plates  and 
90  Diagrams.  Crown  8vo.  With  answers,  is.  6^.  With- 
out answers,  is.  ^d. 

A  carefully  graduated  course  beginning  with  measure- 
ments and  calculations  based  on  them,  and  forming  a 
sound  introduction  to  the  work  of  the  Technical  Schools. 
The  course  covers  the  Board  of  Education  Syllabus  of 
"  Practical  Mathematics  and  Practical  Drawing "  as 
given  in  the  "  Preliminary  Course  for  Trade  Students," 
also  the  work  for  the  Lancashire  and  Cheshire  and 
Midland  Counties  Union  Preliminary  Technical  Certi- 
ficates. 

Rural  Arithmetic  with  Household  Accounts. 

By  RUPERT  DEAKIN,  M.A.,  and  C.  J.  HUMPHREYS, 
B.Sc,  of  the  Central  Secondary  and  Evening  Continuation 
Schools,  Birmingham.  With  many  diagrams.  Crown 
8vo.      IS. 

A  course  of  commercial  arithmetic  to  meet  the  new 
schemes  for  the  evening  continuation  schools. 

A  Practical  Course  in  First  Year  Physics. 

By  E.  T.  BUCKNELL,  F.C.S.,  Headmaster  of  Kings- 
holme  School,  Weston-super-Mare,  and  late  Science 
Master  at  St.  Philip's  Grammar  School  and  the  P.T. 
Centre,  Birmingham.  With  85  Illustrations.  Crown 
Svo.     IS. 

This  course  is  intended  to  provide  a  thorough  ground- 
ing in  the  elements  of  physics.  It  covers  the  syllabus 
for  the  Leaving  Certificate  and  Army  Qualifying 
Examination. 


14  Mills  6t  Boon's  Catalogue 

MILLS    &    BOON'S 
SUMMER    NOVELS. 

Margaret  Rutland. 

By  THOMAS  COBB,  Author  of  "  The  Anger  of  OHvia." 
Crown  8\-o.     65. 

Nobody,  in  Margaret  Rutland's  case,  seemed  to 
remember  that  "  still  waters  run  deep."  It  did  not 
occur  to  those  who  ought  to  have  known  her  best, 
how  delicately  some  perfectly  natural  longings  were 
hidden  behind  the  calm  surface.  She  went  her  way  : 
tranquil,  charitable,  unsatisfied,  until  fate  met  her  in 
the  person  of  Gilbert  Hammett,  who  was  by  several 
3^ears  her  junior. 

Gilbert,  unfortunately,  had  known  Prudence  Farmar, 
as  well  as  much  trouble,  before  he  crossed  Margaret 
Rutland's  path  ;  and  though  this  was  strewed  with 
primroses  in  the  beginning,  there  was  a  multitude  of 
prophets  to  forecast  its  desolate  end. 

But  although  this  might  not  be  such  a  brilliantly 
happy  one  as  that  of  her  friends  Max  Stainer  and 
Christobel,  it  was  by  no  means  entirely  miserable.  If 
Margaret  Rutland  could  have  lived  her  life  over  again, 
it  is  certain  she  would  not  have  chosen  that  Gilbert 
Hammett  should  have  no  part  in  it. 

The  Honourable  Derek. 

By  R.  A.  WOOD-SEYS  (Paul  Cushing).    Crown  8vo.    6s. 

"  The  Honourable  Derek  "  is  a  novel  of  delight.  The 
scene  is  laid  in  England  and  America,  and  concerns  a 
witty  young  Englishman  and  a  brilliant  American 
woman.  "  The  Honourable  Derek "  bears  the  hall 
mark  of  literary  genius,  and  is  a  novel  full  of  surprises, 
capturing  the  reader's  curiosity  from  the  first  to  the 
last  page. 


Summer  Novels,  1910  15 

Two  Men  and  Gwenda. 

By  MABEL  BARNES-CxRUNDY,  Author  of  "  Hilary  on 
Her  Own."     Crown  8vo.     65. 

Mrs.  Barnes-Grundy,  who  moved  to  laughter  a  large 
public  with  her  "  Vacillations  of  Hazel,"  has  again 
touched  the  humorous  note  in  her  new  novel,  "  Two 
Men  and  Gwenda  "  ;  but  this  time  there  is  pathos  as 
well. 

Gwenda,  a  clever,  gay,  but  very  feminine  and  human 
country  girl,  marries  a  Londoner,  a  thorough  man  of  the 
world.  She  loves  him,  but  her  smart  environment  irks 
her.  They  gradually  drift  apart.  How  she  eventually 
wins  through  to  happiness  we  leave  Mrs.  Barnes-Grund}' 
to  relate.  "  Granty,"  with  her  wise  sayings  and  pink 
shawl  with  bobs,  is  an  old  lady  we  would  much  like  to 
meet. 

Laughter  and  tears  alternate  throughout  the  book, 
but  the  final  note  is  laughter. 

The  Girl  from  his  Town. 

By   MARIE    VAX    VORST,    Author    of    "  First    Love," 
"  In   Ambush."     Crown  8vo.     6s. 

In  this  altogether  charming  and  delightful  love  story 
Miss  Van  Vorst  has  taken  the  young  man  out  of  a 
Montana  mining  town  and  dropped  him  down  uncere- 
moniously in  the  midst  of  London's  smart  set.  There 
he  sees  and  hears  and  meets  Lotty  Lane,  the  reigning 
comic  opera  success.  It  is  she  who  is  the  Girl  from 
his  Town.  A  clever  and  dashing  story  that  will  add  to 
Miss   Van    Vorst 's   already   brilliant   reputation. 

The  Enemy  of  Woman. 

By  WINIFRED  GRAHAM,  Author  of  "  Mary."     Crown 
8vo.     6s. 

To  all  lovers  of  fiction,  a  new  novel  by  Winifred 
Graham  is  always  welcome,  and  perhaps  this,  her  last 
work,  is  more  powerful  than  any  which  has  preceded  it. 


i6 


Mills  6t  Boon's  Catalogue 


Invariably  she  holds  a  theory  of  deeply  seeking  into 
character,  while  exposing  modern  evils.  The  raison 
d'etre  of  "  The  Enemy  of  Woman  "  is  to  portray  what 
disastrous  consequences  are  engendered  by  a  mad 
desire  for  Woman's  Suffrage,  and  the  bad  effects  on 
home  life  of  unbalancing  feminine  minds.  The  opening 
chapters  are  startlingly  dramatic,  with  an  admixture  of 
tears  and  laughter,  creating  an  intensely  human  interest. 
Various  types  of  women,  in  this  engrossing  story,  show 
what  different  forces  of  evil  dog  the  footsteps  of  those 
who  always  crave  to  know  the  "  reason  why  "  of  all 
restraint,  and  talk  much  nonsense  about  Women's 
Rights.  The  plot  reveals  how  well-educated,  and 
otherwise  blameless,  women  may  be  led  even  to  crime 
by  this  obsession.  Winifred  Graham  is,  above  all,  an 
idealist.  Her  book  reveals  the  pain,  horror,  and  aver- 
sion she  cannot  conceal,  of  womanhood  being  lowered 
and  dragged  through  the  mud  by  the  Shrieking  Sister- 
hood. She  considers  women  ought  to  be  on  the  side  of 
the  angels,  not  constantly  straining  after  strife,  and 
she  never  uses  a  worn-out  model. 


I 


A  fine  NoVel. 

Rebecca  Drew. 

By  EDITH  DART.      Crown  8vo.     65. 

"  Rebecca  Drew  "  is  a  quiet,  emotional  tale,  dealing 
with  the  lives  and  characters  of  country  folk,  with  the 
exception  of  the  Stranger.  The  story  is  filled  with  the 
atmosphere  and  feeling  of  the  West  country,  where  the 
scene  is  laid.  The  chief  personages  are  Rebecca  Drew 
and  the  man  who  suddenly  appears  in  her  life,  and 
henceforward  moulds  it  more  or  less  unwillingly  and 
unconsciously.  They  make  a  striking  study  in  contrast  : 
Rebecca,  the  strong,  self-reliant  woman,  who  has  depths 
unplumbed,  unguessed  tenderness  and  passion  beneath 
the  surface,  and  the  Stranger,  an  erratic,  charming, 
gifted  creature,  "  all  things  by  turn  and  nothing  long." 
How  their  lives  meet,  touch,  part,  and  act  upon  one 
another  is  the  theme  of  the  novel.      To  the  discerning 


Summer  Novels,   1910  17 

reader  the  end  is  only  apparent  failure,  since  by  suffering 
has  come,  to  one  at  least  of  the  pair,  self-knowledge  and 
life  in  the  deepest  sense. 

The  Glen. 

By  MARY  STUART  BOYD,  Author  of  "  Her  Besetting 
Virtue,"  "  The  Man  in  the  Wood."     Crown  8vo.     65. 

The  scene  of  this  present-day  novel  is  laid  chiefly 
in  a  West  Highland  valley,  into  whose  remote  placidity 
drift  distracting  elements  in  the  form  of  a  group  of 
London  society  people,  and  a  Norwegian  sailor  whose 
disabled  schooner  is  washed  into  the  bay  in  a  gale. 

The  plot  shows  deft  handling  of  strongly  contrasted 
lives.  The  romantic  fancy  of  Nannie  for  the  phil- 
andering Englishman  reveals  girlish  devotion  to  an 
imaginary  ideal.  The  reluctant  wooing  of  the  caustic- 
tongued  Elspie  by  her  phlegmatic  but  persistent  suitor 
is  full  of  amusing  situations  and  pithy  dialogue,  while 
the  romance  of  Rachel  Rothe  and  the  Man  from  the 
Sea  strikes  the  deep  note  of  tragic  passion. 

The  male  characters  are  widely  diverse.  The  plausible 
gentleman  of  leisure,  the  brilliant  Highland  student 
with  his  dogged  determination  to  win  Civil  Service 
honours,  the  greatly  daring  but  simple  and  manly 
young  Norwegian  skipper,  though  true  to  life,  are  poles 
asunder. 

The  novel  opens  and  closes  in  the  glen  with  its  sentinel 
mountains  and  wave-beat  shore.  The  intervening 
scenes  take  place  in  London  and  on  board  the  Nor- 
wegian schooner  the  Skaal.  Apart  from  its  strong 
romantic  interest,  the  novel  is  full  of  humorous  char- 
acterisation. 

A  brilliant  first  NoVet. 

Jehanne  of  the  Golden  Lips. 

By    FRANCES    G.    KNOWLES-FOSTER.      Illustrated 
in  colour.     Crown  8vo.     65. 

This  fascinating  love  story  of  Queen  Jehanne  of 
Naples  has  a  double  interest.     In  it  accurate  history 


i8 


Mills  6c  Boon's  Catalogue 


and  thrilling  romance  are  deftly  welded  together  so 
as  to  give  us  a  splendidly  human  picture  of  Jehanne  of 
Anjou,  the  wonderful  Mary  Stuart  of  the  South,  her 
heroism,  her  waywardness,  her  genius  for  dominion  in 
her  relations  with  every  one,  and  of  her  courtiers,  her 
enemies,  and  her  one  true  love,  Prince  Louis  of  Taranto, 
whose  wooing  of  her  is  more  passionate  and  daring  than 
Romeo's  of  Juliet.  Their  struggles  between  love  and 
honour  before  the  murder  of  Jehanne's  first  husband, 
Andrea  of  Hungary,  make  enthrahing  reading.  The 
author  has  caught  the  very  spirit  of  fierce,  luxurious, 
intriguing  Naples  of  1345,  by  culling  direct  from  the 
Neapolitan  archives  the  vivid  details  of  such  chronicles 
as  that  of  Tristan  Caracciolo,  the  noble  scholar  who 
heard  the  living  Golden  Lips  charm  all  ears,  and  has 
dared  to  give  an  unvarnished  account  of  the  reckless 
gorgeous  age,  while  remaining  equally  faithful  to  the 
historical  facts.  This  is  a  feat  which  no  other  novelist 
on  the  subject  has  yet  accomplished.  There  is  also 
given  a  new  and  absorbingly  interesting  theory  as  to 
the  Queen's  share  in  her  encumbering  husl)and's  murder, 
the  tale  of  which  is  told  in  almost  haunting  fashion. 
Boccaccio's  pleasant  relations  with  the  Queen,  the 
audacious,  almost  successful  plot  of  the  Red  Count  of 
Savoy  to  carry  her  off,  the  rush  of  the  Hungarian 
forces  upon  Naples,  and  the  magnificent  victory  of 
Queen  Jehanne  and  Prince  Louis  in  the  end,  are  only 
a  few  of  the  salient  points  to  be  mentioned  at  hazard 
in  a  book  of  which  every  page  contains  some  exciting 
incident. 


The  Sins  of  the  Children. 

By  HORACE  W.  C.  NEWTE,  Author  of  "  Calico  Jack," 
"  Sparrows."     Crown  8vo.     6s. 

In  this  remarkable  novel  Mr.  Newte  has  deserted  the 
byways  of  London  life,  and  has  gone  to  the  world-old 
subject  of  filial  ingratitude.  It  may  be  objected  that 
the  last  word  has  been  said  on  such  a  theme  in  "  King 


Summer  Novels,   1910  19 

Lear  "  and  "  Pere  Goriot,"  but  while  these  acknow- 
ledged masterpieces  respectively  deal  with  Kings  and 
Princesses,  and  the  denizens  of  smart  life  in  the  Paris 
of  the  Restoration,  "  The  Sins  of  the  Children,"  in 
depicting  ordinary,  everyday  folk,  should  make  a  con- 
vincing appeal  to  the  many  who  are  moved  by  that 
considerable  portion  of  the  ironic  procession  in  which 
average  humanity  lives,  moves,  and  has  its  being. 
"  The  Sins  of  the  Children  "  is  in  two  parts  ;  the  first 
deals  with  the  youth  and  girlhood  of  a  charming  daugh- 
ter of  the  suburbs  ;  of  her  single-hearted,  devoted 
father  ;  of  her  selfish  absorption  in  lover  and  husband, 
and  of  the  unhappy  consequences  of  her  neglect  of  one 
she  should  have  loved  and  cherished.  The  second 
part  deals  with  the  motherhood  of  the  heroine,  and  of 
her  experiences  with  a  selfish  son,  who,  in  oehaving  to 
her  as  she  did  to  her  father,  causes  her  to  realise  her 
own  ingratitude,  which  gives  rise  to  poignant  and  un- 
availing remorse.  A  romantic  love  story  runs  through 
the  work,  which  also  contains  a  variety  of  quaint  char- 
acter studies.  As  "  The  Sins  of  the  Children "  will 
doubtless  be  read  by  every  child  and  parent,  it  should 
make  the  widest  of  appeals 

Written  in  the  Rain. 

By   JOHN  TREVENA,  Author  of   "  Granite."       Crown 
8vo.     65. 

"  Written  in  the  Rain  "  is  a  volume  of  stories  by  this 
popular  author.  As  they  have  all  been  written  in  that 
part  of  the  country  where  it  raineth  every  day,  the  title 
is  not  wholly  inappropriate.  There  will  be,  in  defiance 
of  superstition,  thirteen  items  :  a  problem  story,  an 
impossible  story,  two  poignant  reminiscences,  two 
studies  of  different  types  of  broken-down  gentlemen, 
two  tales  of  the  imagination,  a  short  comedy  entitled 
"  A  Comet  for  Sale,"  three  light  Devonshire  stories 
(Dartmoor),  and  a  descriptive  sketch,  entitled  "  Matri- 
mony," of  a  wedding  at  Widdicombe  in  the  early  ages. 


20  Mills  6:  Boon's  Catalogue 

An  Original  LoVe  Storff. 

The  Valley  of  Achor. 

By    MRS.    PHILIP    CHAMPION    DE     CRESPIGNY, 
Author  of  "  The  Coming  of  Aurora."     Crown  8vo.     65. 

"  The  Valley  of  Achor — or  trouble — for  a  door  of 
hope,"  is  the  quotation  from  Hosea  from  which  this  book 
takes  its  title.  It  is  a  story  of  modern  days,  so  modern 
that  recent  events  have  prompted  the  main  idea  of  the 
plot.  Nigel  Pitcairn  returns  from  a  voyage  of  explora- 
tion, and  after  an  enthusiastic  reception,  is  discredited, 
not  only  b}'  the  world  at  large,  but  by  the  woman  he 
loves,  and  for  whose  sake  moreover  the  dangers  and 
hardships  of  his  travels  were  undergone.  As  his  creed 
has  always  been  that  man  is  master  of  his  fate,  he  knows 
all  will  come  right  in  the  end,  and  only  for  one  brief 
moment  loses  heart. 

How  his  good  faith  is  finally  proved,  and  his  claims 
acknowledged,  remains  a  mystery  until  nearly  the  end 
of  the  book.  The  characters  of  the  two  principal  women 
are  widely  different,  Portia  Quinton,  coldly  logical, 
ambitious  and  self-centred,  while  Nancy  Devenant  is 
quite  the  reverse — slightly  inconsequent,  but  with  a 
heart  of  gold  ;  her  brother  Howard,  a  learned  professor 
and  Pitcairn's  rival  for  Portia's  favour,  finally  clears 
the  latter's  name  in  rather  a  curious  manner.  An 
enthusiastic  golfer  and  his  wife,  among  the  minor 
characters,  supply  the  lighter  touches  to  the  story. 


I 


A   Golden   Straw," 


The  Pilgrimage  of  a  Fool. 

By  J.  E.  BUCKROSE,  Author  of 
etc.     Crown  8vo.     6s. 

Readers  of  "  A  Golden  Straw  "  may  recollect  how 
superstition  played  a  notable  part  in  that  fine  story. 
In  a  measure  perhaps  they  will  again  be  reminded  of 
that  work  in  "  The  Pilgrimage  of  a  Fool,"  which  is 
the  simple  history  of  a  commonplace  soul.  In  it  the 
secret  longing  of  nearly  every  man's  and  woman's  soul 
for  "  something  more  "  becomes  to  a  certain  extent 
articulate.     The    hero's    love    story    is    interesting  and 


Summer  Novels,   1910  21 

sincere,  while  human  pathos  and  folly  jostle  good 
thoughts  in  the  book  as  they  do  in  real  life.  The 
whole  thing  is  curiously  human  even  in  its  imperfections. 
Mills  &  Boon  heartily  recommend  "  The  Pilgrimage 
of  a  Fool  "  as  a  novel  that  will  please  even  the  most 
critical  reader,  for  its  author  has  wit  and  humour  and 
a  knowledge  of  human  nature  which  is  not  surpassed 
by  any  living  novelist. 

The  Island  of  Souls.     A  Sensational  Fairy  Tale. 

By  M.   URQUHART,   Author  of   "A   Fool   of   Faery." 
Crown  8vo.     6s. 

Blue-Grey  Magic. 

By    SOPHIE    COLE,    Author    of    "  A    Wardour    Street 
Idyll."     Crown  8vo.     6s. 

"  Blue-Grey  Magic  "  takes  its  name  from  some 
mysterious  letters  written  on  blue-grey  paper  to  Hester 
Adean,  whose  sweet  and  gentle  personality  attracts 
"  The  Doctor,"  a  strong,  whimsical  man,  devoid  of 
sentiment,  and  Stella  Chase,  an  advanced  modern  girl 
of  the  extreme  type.  The  situation  between  these 
persons  and  the  story  of  Hester's  development  is  told 
in  that  original  way  which  readers  of  Miss  Cole's  novels 
naturally  expect  from  her.  The  secret  of  the  letters  is 
well  kept  until  the  dramatic  climax  is  reached.  "  Blue- 
Grey  Magic  "  is  a  touching  and  human  love  story  with 
a  happy  ending.  It  is  certain  to  please  the  large  circle 
of  readers  who  found  "  Arrows  from  the  Dark  "  and 
"  A  Wardour  Street  Idyll  "  so  delightful. 

The  Palace  of  Logs. 

By    ROBERT    BARR,    Author    of     "  Cardillac  "    and 
"  The  Sword  Maker."     Crown  8vo.     6s. 

Body  and  Soul. 

By  LADY  TROUBRIDGE,    Author    of    "  The    Woman 
who  Forgot,"    "The   Cheat,"  etc.     Crown  Svo.     6s. 

"  Body  and  Soul  "  is  a  new  long  novel  by  Lady 
Troubridge,  whose  popularity  is  rapidly  increasing.  This 
is  not  surprising  when  it  is  remembered  that  Lady 


2  2  Mills  &  Boon's  Catalogue 

Troubridge  writes  with  such  easy  grace  and  never,  fails  to 
give  her  readers  a  story  of  fascinating  interest. 

813. 

By  MAURICE  LEBLANC,  Author  of  "  Arsene  Lupin." 
Translated  by  ALEXANDER  TEIXEIRA  DE  MATTOS. 
Crown  8vo.     6s. 

An    entirely    new    "  Arsene    Lupin  "    adventure    of 
absorbing  interest,  with  never  a  dull  page. 

Sport  of  Gods. 

By  H.  VAUGHAN-SAWYER.     Crown  8vo.     65. 
A  powerful  Indian  novel  of  modern  life. 

With  Poison  and  Sword 

By  W.  M.   O'KANE.     Crown    8vo.     6s. 
A  dashing  Irish  romance. 

The  Vanishing  Smuggler. 

By  STEPHEN  CHALMERS.  Crown  8vo.  6s. 
This  is  a  fascinating  tale  of  old  smuggling  days  on  the 
Scottish  coast.  Smuggle-erie  and  his  reckless  band, 
the  old  Coastguard,  with  his  memories  of  Trafalgar 
and  Nelson,  dainty  Grisel  and  the  quaint  village  folk 
of  Morag,  are  portrayed  with  a  warmth  of  reality  that 
is  rare  in  fiction. 


SHILLING    NET    NOVELS. 

Sparrows,  the  Story  of  an 

Unprotected  Girl.  Horace  W.  C.  Newte. 

The  Adventures  of  Captain 

Jack.  Max  Pemberton. 

The  Prodigal  Father.  J.  Storer  Clouston. 

D'Arcy  of  the  Guards.  L.  E.  Shipman. 

The  novel  of  the  Play  at  the  St.  James's  Theatre. 


General  Literature  23 

BOOKS    PREVIOUSLY    PUBLISHED 

GENERAL    LITERATURE 
The  Court  of  William  IIL 

By  EDWIN  and  MARION  SHARPE  GREW.  With 
many  Illustrations.  Demy  8vo.  155.  net. 
Times. — ' '  The  authors  have  steered  most  dexterously  between 
the  solidity  of  history  and  the  irresponsibility  of  Court  bio- 
graphy. Their  book  consists  of  a  number  of  character  studies 
done  with  care  and  distinction  ;  it  is  a  welcome  change  from 
the  mass  of  literature  whose  only  function  is  to  revive  the 
gossip  and  scandal  centred  round  a  throne.  It  is  a  series  of 
portraits  of  the  men  and  women  whose  lives  were  spent  in 
making  history." 

Morning  Post. — "  Done  with  fairness  and  thoroughness.  .  .   . 
The  book  has  many  conspicuous  merits." 

Rambles  with  an  American. 

By  CHRISTIAN  TEARLE,  Author  of  "  Holborn  Hill." 
Fully  illustrated.     los.  6d.  net. 
Spectator. — "  The  idea  of  the  book  is  good,   and  it  is  well 
carried  out,  and  a  reader,  if  he  is  of  the  right  sort,  will  be  greatly 
charmed  with  it." 

Morning  Post. — "  Delightful." 

Daily    Chronicle. — "A    happy    idea.     Originally    conceived, 
well  written,  and  entirely  readable." 

My  Thirty  Years  in  India. 

By  Sir  EDMUND  C.  COX,  Bart.,  Deputy  Inspector- 
General  of  Police,  Bombay  Presidency.  With  6  Illustra- 
tions.    Demy  Svo.     8s.  net. 

An  Art  Student's  Reminiscences 
of  Paris  in  the  Eighties. 

By  SHIRLEY  FOX,  R.B.A.  With  illustrations  by  John 
Cameron.     Demy  Svo.     los.  6d.  net. 

Sporting  Stories. 

By  THORMANBY.  Fully  illustrated.  Demy  Svo. 
I05.  6d.  net. 

Daily  Express. — "Contains  the  best  collection  of  anecdotes 
of  this  generation.     It  is  a  perfect  mine  of  good  things." 
Sporting  Life. — "  This  vast  storehouse  of  good  stories." 


24  Mills  <Sc  Boon's  Catalogue 

British  Mountain  Climbs. 

By  GEORGE  D.  ABRAHAM,  Author  of  "  The  Com- 
plete Mountaineer,"  Member  of  the  Climbers'  Club,  etc., 
etc.  Illustrated  with  Photographs  and  Diagrams. 
Pocket  size.  Waterproof  cloth,  ys.  6d.  net.  (See  also 
p.  6.) 

Nature. — "  Is  sure  to  become  a  favourite  among  moun- 
taineers." 

Sportsman. — "  Eminently  a  practical  manual." 

A  Manual  for  Nurses. 

By  SYDNEY  WELHAM,  M.R.C.S.  (Resident  Medical 
Officer,  Charing  Cross  Hospital).  With  Diagrams. 
Crown  8vo.     3s.  6d.  net. 

In  this  work  the  aim  of  the  author  is  to  present  a 
volume  useful  to  all  grades  of  Nurses,  the  various  sub- 
jects being  treated  in  a  lucid  and  practical  manner. 
Nursing,  the  first  subject  dealt  with,  is  a  section  in 
itself  ;  the  other  subjects  necessary  for  a  Nurse  to  study 
during  her  training  are  dealt  with  seriatim — Anatomy 
and  Physiology,  in  concise  yet  thorough  chapters,  con- 
taining all  essential  points  without  unnecessary  and 
confusing  details. 

The  Romance  of  the  Oxford  Colleges. 

By   FRANCIS   GRIBBLE.     With   a   Photogravure  and 
16  full-page  Illustrations.     Crown  8vo.     6s. 
Westminster  Gazette. — "  Does  not  contain  a  dull  page." 
World. — "  Very  agreeable  and  entertaining." 
Daily  Chronicle. — "Marvellously  well-informed." 

The  Bolster  Book.     A  Book  for  the  Bedside. 

By    HARRY     GRAHAM,     Author    of    "  Deportmental 

Ditties."     With  an  illustrated  cover  by  Lewis  Baumer. 

Second  Edition.     Crown  8vo.     6s. 

Daily    Chronicle. — "Humorists    are    our    benefactors,    and 

Captain  Graham  being  not  only  a  humorist,  but  an    inventor 

of  humour,  is  dearer  to  me  than  that  '  sweet  Tuxedo  girl,'  of 

a  famous  song,  who,   '  though  fond  of  fun,'   is   '  never  rude.' 

I  boldly  assume  that  Biffin,  like  '  the  Poet  Budge  '  and  Hosea 

Biglow,  is   a  ventriloquist's  doll — a  doll  more  amusing  than 

any  figure  likely  to  appear  in  the  dreams  of  such  dull  persons 

as  could  be  put  to  sleep  by  articulate  laughter." 


General  Literature  25 

Letters  of  a  Modern  Golfer  to 
his  Grandfather. 

Being  the  correspondence  of  Richard  Allingham,  Esq., 
arranged  by  HENRY  LEACH.  Crown  8vo.  6s. 
Outlook. — "There  are  many  people  who  lack  the  energy  to 
apply  themselves  to  the  study  of  a  technical  manual  on  any 
science  or  pastime,  but  who  will  readily  absorb  the  requisite 
information  when  it  is  served  up  in  the  guise  of  fiction.  A 
book  in  which  the  human  interest  is  as  marked  as  the  practical 
instruction.  Young  Richard  Allingham  is  something  of  a 
philosopher  as  well  as  being  an  independent  theorist  of  the 
game  of  games.  He  also  makes  a  nice  lover.  Hence  we  have 
in  this  volume  all  the  factors  which  give  charm  to  the  life  of 
the  links.  The  volume  will  be  an  acquisition  to  the  golfer's 
library." 

Auction  Bridge. 

By  ARCHIBALD  DUNN.     Containing  the  Revised  Rules 

of  the  game.     Handsomely  bound  in  cloth  and  forming  a 

companion  volume  to  "  Club  Bridge."    Crown  8vo.   5s.  net. 

Sportsman. — "  A   study   of   this   manual   vnW   profit   them   in 

knowledge  and  in  pocket." 

Club  Bridge. 

By  ARCHIBALD  DUNN,   Author  of  "  Bridge  and  How 

to  Play  it."     Crown  8vo.     55.  net. 
Evening  Standard. — "  This  is,  in  fact,  '  the  book.'  " 
Manchester  Guardian. — "  A  masterly  and  exhaustive  treatise." 

The  Children's  Story  of  Westminster  Abbey. 

By  Miss  G.  E.  TROUTBECK,  Author  of  "  Westminster 
Abbey"  (Little  Guides).  With  4  Photogravure  Plates, 
and  21  Illustrations  from  Photographs.  Crown  8vo. 
5s.  net.     (See  p.  8.) 

The  Children's  Stor}?^  of  the  Bee. 

By  S.  L.  BENSUSAN,  Author  of  "  Wild  Life  Stories." 
Illustrated  by  C.  Moore  Park.     Crown  8vo.     5s.  net. 

Deportmental  Ditties. 

By  HARRY  GRAHAM,  Author  of  "  Ruthless  Rhymes 
for  Heartless  Homes,"  etc.  Illustrated  by  Lewis  Baumer. 
Second  Edition.     Crown  4to.     3s.  6d.  net. 

Times. — "Clever,  humorous  verse." 

Daily  Graphic. — "Mr.  Graham  certainly  has  the  knack." 


2  6  Mills  &  Boon's  Catalogue 

Through  the  Loopholes  of  Retreat. 

By  HANSARD  WATT.  With  a  portrait  of  Cowper  in 
photogravure.     Crown  8vo.     3s.  6d.  net. 

Kings  and  Queens  of  France. 

A  Concise   History  of  France. 

By  MILDRED  CARNEGY.  With  a  Preface  by  the 
Bishop  of  Hereford.  With  a  Map  and  4  full-page 
Illustrations.     Crown  8vo.     3s.  6d. 

Pure    Folly  :    The   Story    of  those    Re- 
markable People   The  Follies. 

Told  by  FITZROY  GARDNER.  With  a  new  song  by 
H.  G.  Pelissier.  Illustrated  by  Geoffrey  Holme, 
Norman  Morrow,  Arthur  Wimperis,  John  Bull,  etc. 
Crown  4to.     2s.  6d.  net. 

Popular  Edition.      Thirteenth   Thousand 

The  New  Theology. 

By  the  Rev.  R.  J.  CAMPBELL.  Fully  revised  and  with 
a  new  Preface.  With  a  full  account  of  the  Progressive 
League,  including  the  speeches  of  Hall  Caine  and  Bernard 
Shav.'.     Crown  8vo.     15.  net. 

Votes  for  Women.     A  Play  in  Three  Acts. 

By    ELIZABETH    ROBINS.     Crown    8vo.      is. 


MILLS    &    BOON'S 
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By   "  A   FOUR-INCH   DRIVER."     With   4   Plates   and 
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Country  Life. — "  Written  in  simple  language,  but  reveals  in 
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The  Gardener's  Companion. 

By  SELINA  RANDOLPH.  With  an  Introduction  by 
Lady  Alwyne  Compton.  Crown  8vo.  25.  net. 
Daily  Mail.-^"  The  author  has  had  many  years'  experience 
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of  the  beginner,  and  her  crowded  chapters  are  well  designed 
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Companion  Series  27 

The  Six-Handicap  Golfer's  Companion. 

By  "  TWO  OF  HIS   KIND."     With  chapters  by  H.   S. 
Colt    on    Golf    generally    and    Harold    H.    Hilton   on 
Scientific   Wooden   Club   Play.       Fully  illustrated    (from 
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Golf  Illustrated. — "  The  Author's  aim  is  to  teach  inferior  players 
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deal  of  sound  advice  in  the  book,  and  its  value  is  greatly  in- 
creased by  two  excellent  chapters  by  Mr.  H.  H.  Hilton  and  Mr. 
H.  S.  Colt." 

The  Mother's  Companion. 

By  Mrs.  M.  A.  CLOUDESLEY-BRERETON  (Officier 
d'Academie).  With  an  Introduction  by  Sir  Lauder 
Brunton,  M.D.,  F.R.C.P.,  F.R.S.    Crown  8vo.    2s.  6d.  net. 

The  Rifleman's  Companion. 

By  L.  R.  TIPPIXS.  With  6  Illustrations.  Crown  Svo. 
IS.  6d.  net. 

The  author  is  well  known  as  a  skilled  "  Inter- 
national "  shot,  who  has  very  exceptional  facilities  for 
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joined  to  long  experience  of  rifle-making,  has  placed 
him  in  the  front  rank  of  rifle  experts. 

The  new  book  is  practical,  while  not  neglecting 
such  knowledge  of  theory  as  is  essential  for  useful 
practice,  and  shows  the  rifleman  how  to  get  the 
best  work  out  of  his  weapon. 

The  Poultry  Keeper's   Companion. 

By  ARTHUR  TYSILIO  JOHNSON.  With  60  Illus- 
trations. Crown  Svo.  25.  6d.  net. 
The  aim  of  the  author  has  been  to  cater  for  the 
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and  Rearing,  Egg  Production,  Laying  Strains,  Table 
Poultry,  Markets  and  Marketing  are  exhaustively  dealt 
with,  and  there  is  a  description  of  the  most  useful 
breeds  of  poultry.  Diseases  are  described  with  the 
treatment  in  each  case.  A  part  of  the  book  is  devoted 
to  Duck  Farming. 


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The  Prodigal  Father . 

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30 

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